


Answers May Vary

by Happy_Veggie_Farmer



Series: Answers [3]
Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-28
Updated: 2015-09-29
Packaged: 2018-04-01 18:21:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 58,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4029952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Happy_Veggie_Farmer/pseuds/Happy_Veggie_Farmer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the Alliance moves forward with its plans, Red and the team meet a man who knows much more than he should about all of them.  Will he be their ally or rival?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, it's been a busy few weeks in this fandom!
> 
> I am 100% sure that on the show, the SS Lizzington is going to sail off with 'canon' blazing within a few seasons. But in this story, that ship left port a long time ago. This is the third part in a series. If you're new to this series, I strongly recommend going back to the first part and starting there so this all makes some kind of sense. If you've already journeyed with me through the first two parts, welcome back!

Within the private confines of her own mind Liz could be completely honest with herself. She had missed this place.

If Raymond ever asked her, she would freely admit there were several aspects of her former life that she would sometimes pause and quietly mourn the loss. Liz had loved the comfortable oasis she had crafted out of her generic townhouse; her fondness for that had lasted far longer than her fondness for her former co-resident. She regretted that she had needed to suddenly cut off the treasured friendships she had carefully nurtured throughout her Quantico training and the move to D.C. After all, even if she were not forbidden to contact them for security reasons, her old buddies would likely be so appalled by her infamous new companion and/or her outstanding warrants for treason that any visit would be awkward at the very least. Liz would even allow that she sometimes thought back wistfully on a few of the small casual moments of her daily routine, like her yoga class, or chatting with the nice barista at the local coffee shop she would visit on Sunday mornings. Often when the weather was nice she missed Hudson the dog and their long leisurely walks through the park. She could even admit she missed her job, or at least its finer moments; the camaraderie with her office mates, and those times she had basked in the glow of her boss's approval at a moment of success. All of these, she would cheerfully agree, had been replaced by wonderful new places and people, but those memories were still carefully treasured and willingly shared.

She felt silly even admitting to herself that she also missed shopping at the local mall. The mass commercialism, the cheap trendy clothes, the bland greasy aromas emanating from the food court; all of these things she knew she should now find bourgeois and repulsive, but instead she found herself almost giddy with anticipation as she barged through the main entrance doors half an hour before her scheduled rendezvous time. She had told Raymond only that she was going to meet with Elenna; she didn't tell him where, and she had to trust the omni-present men on protective duty not to run back and tell any embarrassing tales.

Despite her public location she smiled to herself at the thought of his reaction. Of course Raymond wouldn't tease her or make any disparaging comments, even if on the inside he would likely be shuddering at one of her few remaining common ways. Nowadays, it seemed like nothing she could do or say could bring forth any kind of negative response from her fiancé. Despite all of the storm clouds looming ahead on the horizon, since she had answered 'yes' he had reached some kind of contented peaceful armistice with the world. Each of his closest associates had come privately to Liz to explain they had never seen him this happy before, and each of them thanked her for making this possible.

Liz did a lap alone around the bottom floor of the shopping plaza, treasuring the feeling of once again fitting in neatly and anonymously in the midst of the throngs of other eager shoppers. It was Thursday afternoon on a early summer Washington day, and the air was thick with the illicit joy that comes from sneaking out of work a few hours early for no redeeming reason. She hadn't been the one to suggest the mall; that had been Elenna, who also held fond memories of the times they had slipped out of the office together for an hour or so to shop and talk and just get away from whatever case was currently weighing on their minds. Inevitably, a few laps would lead to a eureka moment from one or the other; it had been their secret weapon in the war against the 'listers.

The agent in question was waiting patiently at the rendezvous bench next to the escalators and obligatory public art project. She jumped up from her seat and greeted Liz with a hug and squeal of happiness. Then she held her back at arm's length and studied her like a suspect. "Girl, look at you! Oh, my goodness, I love the new haircut!" She gushed brightly.

Liz allowed herself to be highly appraised by her best friend for a few more minutes, then eagerly returned the favor. "El, you continue to rock the federal blues!" she declared with a smile, motioning to her friend's new work suit.

"I found a new tailor that knows how to hide a weapon or two along with the muffin top," Elenna admitted cheerfully.

Greeting over, they quickly decided on which floor to invade first and stepped together on to the up escalator. "So how long are you in town?" Elenna asked cheerfully. And with a more muted tone added, "Is this a working visit?"

"Just a few days," Liz answered firmly. "And no 'lister this time, I promise. Just a visit with some old buddies."

"That's  what you said last time.  Are you sure?"

Liz was sure.  "I promise."

"Uh huh," Agent Davidson had been distracted by the luscious pair of black satin evening shoes featured prominently under a giant sale banner. Her nose was right up against the glass as she heaved a disappointed sigh. "Adorable, but it would be a tragic waste to abandon them to the back of the closet or on another crappy undercover duty like last week's nasty hoochie club. Oh, that was so awful. Have you ever tried to arrest someone while wearing just some spangly underwear?"

Liz had to laugh out loud in spite of her friend's earnestness. After a moment Elenna shrugged, rolled her eyes and grinned. "We're taking on some extra cases for main justice, since our primary mission seems to have just completely stalled out. Don had to work a case involving a dirty judge getting paid off to let snotty rich embezzlers escape jail time. I really thought he was going to sign up with the General Ludd folks after that."

"So how is Don doing?" Liz asked with the thinnest veneer of innocent nonchalance.

"Agent Ressler is a gorgeous pile of sweet hot mess," Elenna replied with resignation. "Please don't ask me to describe our relationship, or if that word even applies to our peculiar situation. I just think of him as my partner with benefits."

Liz's smile was the one shared by all happy brides to be that were convinced everyone in the world was just waiting their turn to be as happily paired up with someone special. "So you two are an item now?"

"Agent Keen, we're professionals. We do not have inappropriate relationships at work," Elenna corrected her primly. Then grinned widely. "We have inappropriate relationships at his apartment."

"You know, El, its a black site, not a dating site," Liz teased.

"Well, I wanted to follow your excellent example in finding true romance, but then we were fresh out of caged felons!" Elenna exclaimed back with mock offense. "And to my great dismay I found out that somehow all of the other guys on the wanted list are unavailable for any kind of long-term relationship. So I had to settle for a fed!"

Liz laughed good-naturedly; she had sensed the continuing thawing in her friend's feelings towards Raymond since Denver. They had not yet formed the friendship she was hoping would someday develop, but Elenna's teasing now showed a higher percentage of affection than derision. Things were good enough between them that Liz was only half-serious when she had sat them both down in the recent past and made each swear to her they would never try to kill each other again.

She smiled at her friend. 'You should have asked me. I could have fixed you up with someone nice and non-violent."

"Hook me up with Dembe. He's hot!" Elenna replied immediately. "Come on, admit it, you think so too! She thinks he's hot too!" she had suddenly whirled around and loudly directed this towards the men on protective detail just a dozen feet behind them. Agent Davidson had picked both of them out of the crowds as soon as Liz had arrived. She had been a little professionally irritated they were so easy to find. She expected better work from Red's people.

Liz shushed her while blushing deeply and hoping word of this wouldn't travel back to the safe house by unamused bodyguards. "Please don't get me busted at the mall, Agent Davidson. You'll completely ruin my street cred as an international fugitive."

"FBI's number five most wanted captured outside the Banana Republic. Yes, that would be embarrassing." Elenna agreed.

They spent some time lounging on a nearby bench in companionable silence. The moments of girlish levity had been wonderful for both; they each spent far too few moments relaxing like that these days. "So how is Bad Boy doing these days?" Elenna asked finally.

Liz assured her friend Raymond was quite well and sent his warmest regards. "He's always glad to see you and Don. He'll be up in New York for the next two days, but he'd like to visit with both of you before we leave town."

It was time to switch floors, they agreed, and get down to business and visit a couple of their favorite stores downstairs. As they silently perused a rack of summer dresses, Liz said suddenly and with some trepidation, "So, I have a favor to ask you."

"Work or play?" El replied absently as she eyed a stunning blue dress that would be perfect, she thought dryly, if Don ever took her anywhere that wasn't fast food or work duty.

"I would be so happy if you would be my maid of honor," Liz asked hesitantly. She waited for a response from her stunned friend.

Elenna stared at her, with an expression that was trying desperately not to let disapproving share space with astonished. "What?" she managed finally. After a minute she could add a little more. "You're getting married?"

"In Cuba," Liz admitted. "Even with the new thaw in relations, there won't be any extradition laws enacted for some time. Raymond wants everything to be done officially and in a church."

"Wow." Elenna's senses then finally caught up with her instinctive reactions. "Of course, I'll be there for you. Congratulations!" she exclaimed just a little too late, and hugged her friend tightly to make up for that.

Liz had been realistic in setting her expectations for this conversation, so she wasn't too disappointed by her friend's lack of enthusiasm. "I know you think this is not a very good idea, but El, this is what we both want. Wait until you see Raymond; he's been so excited about planning the wedding. He'll spill all of the details to you, I'm sure, but they're supposed to be a surprise for me."

"He's planning the wedding?" Elenna repeated with wonder. "Oh, my ...."

"I know Raymond can get a little exuberant when he's excited about a project," Liz admitted. "But its not like I would know the best wedding cake bakeries in Havana. Dembe will be the best man, of course, but we both would be thrilled if Don would come down to Cuba with you. I'll make sure you catch the bouquet."

"I'll just hit him with it," Elenna admitted cheerfully. "When's the date?"

"August 29th," Liz answered promptly.

Elenna shrugged. 'Tell Groomzilla I'll be there, but I pick out my own bridesmaid dress, all right?"

Having settled the big agenda item for their meeting, they returned to their shopping and light-topic chatter until Liz's phone beeped, and she regretfully informed her friend she had other business she needed to attend to. Elenna wisely didn't ask about the business, but hugged her friend and admonished her to call again before skipping town.

When she had said her final goodbyes to Lizzie at the main entrance to the mall, it was the peak of rush hour and a lousy time to head back into the city and her empty loft. Elenna decided instead to treat herself to a calorie bomb drink at one of the trendy little coffee shops camped out within shouting distance of the plaza. She found one reasonably packed with the clientele so specific to D.C. - each table held one besuited thirty-something, with a cell phone parked next to their lattes and either a laptop or tablet holding the customer's undivided attention. She shrugged slightly in disapproval of her own holier-than-thou attitude, since she was still wearing her work suit, and if her laptop wasn't so highly classified she probably would have it with her as well.

She snuck a peek at her phone and pursed her lips ruefully. Five messages total from three family members, and a couple of texts from Don that were ninety-nine percent probability of being work-muck she didn't want to dive into now. She returned her phone to her jacket pocket and decided to spend a few minutes people watching instead.

Suits came, sucked down lattes, and continued on their way, with no one distinctive or interesting enough to hold her attention for too long. The prime dinner hours had commenced and the place was rapidly emptying out when someone finally piqued her curiosity. First off, he was suited but lacking a tie, which was a felony charge in this conservative town. Second, she smiled involuntarily, he was gorgeous. Probably a decade and a bit more older than her, but far too handsome to be dismissed just because of a meaningless difference in numbers. Blond hair, blue eyes, angelic smile; he caught the eye of every woman and several men in the room.

Elenna used all of her best Quantico-trained methods to hide her suddenly intense surveillance of his graceful movements towards her corner of the room. He chose an empty table nearby and quickly pulled out a phone from his pocket to engage his attention. She found herself studying the bottom of her empty cup, having decided that she would indeed order another round instead of the departure she had been planning. Don who? she thought grimly. They sure didn't meet anyone's definition of committed relationship.

She felt his gaze fall on her and covered her pleased smile with her empty cup. Then she tossed her hair back as she turned directly towards him to catch him at his observation. "Hi!" he greeted with a friendly and surprisingly deep voice. "Interesting crowd, isn't it?"

"D.C. workers running amok," she answered lightly. "You not from here?"

"I'm from San Francisco," he declared. "There suits and ties are worn only if you're getting married or buried. Not a very lively crew, is it?" he observed, peering around again at their shared view. The people were indeed very quiet as they remained on task with their various forms of technology.

"Sorry to disappoint, but we're not exactly a rocking kind of town," Elenna answered with a shrug. She fingered her own jacket to illustrate her observation and place in the scheme. "Are you here on business?"

"Yep, it's a work trip, but I was hoping to find time for a few good times as well." He glanced pointedly at the empty seat of her table. "Are you waiting for someone?"

"Come on over," she invited with a wave of her hand. "I'm Elenna."

"What an interesting name!" he declared as he gracefully transferred his place-setting from table to table. "Much more interesting than mine. I'm Smith."

"You don't have a first name?" Elenna was growing more intrigued. All of her mental danger bells were still ringing harmless, so she let herself lean in a little closer for a good old-fashioned flirtation.

"Well, you know how people sometimes go by just last name at their office? I got so used to that I do it all the time now. What do you do for a living, Elenna?"

Oh, here it goes, she thought grimly. "I work at the FBI." This was the deciding moment when the man either backs away stuttering or fires up their inner Bond fanboy.

"That must be exciting!" he exclaimed with surprised enthusiasm. "I bet you have some fascinating stories to tell." He leaned forward in his seat, from all appearances ready to hear a number of those tales right now.

Fanboy. "Not really," she lied. "Most of my days are swamped with filling out paperwork and meetings." The next cliff for potential dates to fall over had developed after her joining the Post Office. This was the delicate dance of seeing how many questions she could bluff through or evade before either the potential guy stopped asking job questions, or she would have to bring 'classified' into the discussion and scare him away. She sighed into her cup. It was either do the dance or admit her dating pool was now limited to the single men of the Post Office: Res, Aram, and the variety of 'listers or other charmers she arrested, interrogated, or sometimes shot during the course of a typical day.

"Oh, I doubt that." He was still smiling with evident interest. If this interest was only for her job she would take that for a start. His eyes were a startling shade of blue that were hard to keep herself from falling into.

"Really, it's not what you see on TV," she insisted weakly.

"Come on, there has to be some exciting moments, here and there." he argued good-naturedly. "You did get to shoot at Reddington a couple of times, right? That had to be fun."

Elenna flinched as she caught the name dropped so casually into the conversation. Flirting was over; her hand flew to the weapon in her inner jacket pocket at the same moment he rose to his feet. He shook his head in warning, still smiling as he leaned over to whisper in her ear.

"We play on the same team, Agent Davidson. Ask Aram about me. Tell him I said hi!" he called back cheerfully over his shoulder as he made a graceful exit through the gauntlet of tightly packed wooden chairs. She followed as quickly as possible, murmuring apologies as she banged into tables and chairs and angry fellow customers.

By the time she burst out of the doors with her fingers wrapped around the grip of her favorite Sig, he was already gone from view. Standing in the middle of the parking lot, she grabbed instead for her phone to realize incredulously it now shared space in her pocket with a folded-up take-out menu from the cafe. Scrawled across the top in bold sharpied letters was:

_Your friends have powerful enemies._

_Be careful who you trust._

_Will call at noon tomorrow._

_Agent Smith, San Francisco office.'_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Agent Davidson learns more about the mysterious Agent Smith.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> I plan to post new chapters weekly on Thursdays, until I run out of chapters or you run out of interest. 
> 
> I forgot to include the legal stuff last chapter. Prepare yourself for a shock...I don't own Red, or Liz, or Ressler, or even Aram. ** sniffs sadly ** However Agents Davidson and Smith are mine.

"Damn, he's good!" Elenna mumbled out loud in bewilderment. Agent Davidson had always prided herself on her carefully honed skills in sniffing out both her fellow fibbies and other spooky types, but this guy had never once raised her eyebrow in suspicion. She heaved a sigh in resignation at her defeat, then refocused her attention onto her phone. Calling her partner at this point was the most logical and expected thing to do. But she didn't.

Instead Elenna first returned inside the coffee shop to claim the rest of her abandoned belongings, then sped directly to the Post Office. Her instincts were right; there was still one lonely car in the forlorn emptiness of the parking garage.

She flew from the elevator across the war room straight towards Aram's corner.  As usual he had stayed late to finish the several projects that had piled up during the hectic work day. Today's take-out box, only half-finished and grown tepid, balanced precariously on the top of a stack of food-stained classified file folders. Aram didn't note her arrival; he was concentrating all of his efforts on scooting his wheeled office chair back and forth between the three separate programs running on his three main computer terminals, tapping keys or mouse when needed and letting himself think during the quick pauses between actions.

"Hello, my man!" Elenna greeted warmly as she plunked herself down on the least cluttered section of one of his catty-corner desks.

"Agent Davidson!" he was surprised and gracious at the same time. "What are you still doing here?"

"I came back here after I ran into someone kind of intriguing at a coffee shop. I need you to run a name for me through the system," she requested. "Off the record, please."

"I can't run background on a potential date," he replied hesitantly.

She shook her head in contradiction. "He's interesting in a work kind of way, Aram. I think maybe we share federal employment stature and he's trying to set up something on the down low."

"What's the name?" Aram chose one of his multiple keyboards and waited expectantly.

"Agent Smith." She misinterpreted his startle and suddenly furled eyebrows. "Sorry, he didn't give me a first name. He's San Francisco-based if that helps," she added.

Aram had stopped typing after her first words, and turned to gaze up at her with wonder and a hint of giddy joy. "I don't need to look him up the databases, Agent Davidson," he declared, his voice suddenly pitched an octave higher in his excitement. She frowned in consternation as he unexpectedly jumped up from his seat and silently motioned her to follow him towards the back metal staircase. He confused her even father when he refused to speak again until they had left the empty war room behind and had entered Agent Cooper's office. This was the only place in the facility everyone could agree wasn't bugged, and so was often used for conversations that needed to remain discreet.

"You've never heard of Agent Smith?" Aram demanded with surprise and some minor disappointment at her ignorance.

She shrugged with palms up. "Wait, wasn't he in the Matrix?"

Usually Aram loved it when she dropped a pop culture reference, but today he ignored her attempt at humor and remained on task. "If I would have tried to look him up in the system, it would have set off all kinds of alarms at high levels." He continued his lecture with something approaching religious awe. "Agent Smith is a living legend in the intelligence community. He's been linked to every major counter-intelligence action in this country for the last twenty years. Some people claim he's personally responsible for preventing twelve separate major attacks on the homeland since 9/11."

"Do you want his autograph, Aram?" Elenna joked to cover her growing unease. "Smith knows you. He told me to tell you hello for him."

"Wow." Aram was honestly struck speechless by the off-hand recognition by his hero. Elenna let him have his moment to bask in the glory, then steered him back to the topic at hand. She asked, "Did he ever have ties to any of the Reddington investigations?"

"No, Mr. Reddington wouldn't interest Agent Smith at all." Aram was adamant, and Elenna didn't contradict him.

"Well, anyway, so he's one of the good guys?" Elenna confirmed. As she glanced around her boss' familiar office her stomach tightened up at the memory of Smith's warning.

Aram perked up at the chance to heap more praise. "He's the real Captain America. Agent Smith's proven himself so trustworthy and loyal and effective that the leadership has given him complete free range in choosing his missions and his methods. He has a far higher clearance level than any of us, even Agent Cooper. The rumors say he has better access to intel than the President."

"Well, that explains how he found me. I just would to like to know why." Elenna yawned into her palm, suddenly exhausted and wishing she had just gone straight home from her meeting with Liz. But then again, she bitterly followed up that thought, he would have just popped up somewhere else later to deliver his cryptic unwanted message. Agent Smith had apparently chosen a new mission involving her, and he wouldn't be so easily deflected.

Aram faked a cough and interrupted her increasingly despondent parade of thoughts. "He also has a reputation for being a real ... flirt." he confided with some embarrassed flushing.

She already had seen proof of that, she thought bemusedly. I'll shield my tender innocent heart," Elenna assured him in return and rose wearily to her feet. "Going home to bed."

"Good night, Agent Davidson," her young partner wished her after finishing his own yawn, and turned to go right back downstairs to his desks and duties.

Elenna rode home with her phone in easy reach on the passenger seat and tempting her to call either Don or Liz and share the news. But instead she let the phone rest on the seat and turned up the radio to blast all thoughts out of her head. She arrived at her empty apartment, shoved the phone in the charging station, and raced double-time through the rest of her evening routine. The day ended with her lying on her back on the rumpled unmade bed and staring up dejectedly at the popcorn ceiling, cursing her continuing bad luck with blond FBI agents.

 

 

Don realized right away that morning something was wrong with his partner, as soon as she snuck into the office uncharacteristically late, and very uncharacteristically quiet.  He assumed her mood would improve with time and with no lasting bad effects so he didn't draw attention to her pensiveness.  It lucked out that it was one of those rare mornings of no meetings or off-site tasks, so both spent the majority of the morning at their desks plowing through paperwork, sometimes offering meaningless commentary on the minutiae of their tasks but otherwise doggedly working in companionable silence. By lunchtime, though, he could still feel the edginess in her sudden slamming of desk drawers and laptop covers, and he recognized that the quiet morning hadn't brought any relief to her mood. He was  going to have to say something.

"What's bothering you, Davidson?" he asked sharply from his side of their facing desks.

She shrugged. "I'm fine. Just tired." Then she glanced down to her phone again. She had been checking it compulsively all day. "I think I'll take a quick stroll down to the corner store. Can I get you anything?"

"Want company?" he asked instead. He honestly hadn't meant to include the little lilt in his tone but she recognized it anyway as his hint for their taking a little private fun time off-site. It at least made her look at him directly for the first time that day, if only to raise her eyebrows at his tone-deaf male ways.

She answered in her schoolmarm lecture tone. "Agent Ressler, you have work to finish. But what do you say we hit that cheesesteak place for lunch?"

He nodded grimly as he took her meaning, and remained in his seat hunched over his keyboard as she grabbed her jacket and purse. 'Cheesesteaks' had become their code for a conversation that needed to happen away from all of their ever-present listeners and was almost always Reddington-related. Whatever had caused this mood wasn't a personal problem, then. He could admit to himself he was grateful for that. Don liked the changes they had made in their relationship; liked them very much in fact. But he didn't know if he was ready to take on the 'supportive boyfriend' role if her issue had been caused by family or friends or who knew what other personal dramas might come to light now. 

She was gone longer than a typical trip down to the corner market. Ressler jumped to his feet as soon as she re-entered the office and dropped her purse on her chair. "I'm starving!" he growled in indignation. "What took you so long?"

She jiggled her phone as her excuse. "C'mon, let's go," she muttered. He caught on to the increased foulness in her mood and complied quickly. It was his turn to drive, so she climbed into what he had begun thinking of as her seat in his SUV and crossed her arms across her chest.

"I have something to tell you," she announced finally when he caught a quick break in the noontime traffic and had settled into the best lane for their several mile journey.

"You know, that can be a very scary sentence for a guy," he replied calmly.

She tilted her head as she pondered this, then sighed with some derision. "No, this is work stuff. I'll tell you over the cheesesteaks."

Usually this was a misnomer, and they would end up at a cheap greasy burger franchise, but today he pulled into a mom and pop sub place where they had discovered with joint amusement they actually liked the cheesesteaks. She filled him in on the events of the previous night, and her plans for that evening. While she talked he thoughtfully munched through his pile of potato chips, and cycled through a variety of facial expressions to finally settle on suspicious. "I've heard about Agent Smith," he declared. "The guy is as clean as a whistle. He wouldn't have any dealings with Reddington."

"So I guess he just thinks I'm hot, and this is his excuse to take me out for a wild night on the town," Elenna declared while throwing up her hands in exasperation. "Maybe he's planning on being the guy to finally bring in the fabled #4?"

"If Smith ever wanted to lower himself back down to the level of a field agent hunting criminals, he would have caught Red years ago," Ressler admitted with some swallowing of pride.

Elenna, who had done her time on that thankless task force as well, patted his hand in commiseration. "I can't think of anything else I've worked on that would pique the interest of someone like Smith, and he brought up Red in our conversation.  So what would Secret Agent Man want with Reddington?"

Don realized the answer before she had even finished asking the question. "Somebody must be branching into a new line of business." Shit. The only thing more complicated than dealing with criminal Red would be national security risk Red. "I thought he promised to lie low and stay quiet."

"Guess not." Elenna stole the last of his chips and nibbled contemplatively.

Don's mind had switched gears towards another topic of interest. "Where are you meeting him tonight?"

"Laura R.'s" she answered immediately with some pride. He cocked his head in surprise at the name. Even he had heard about Laura R.'s, the trendiest restaurant in a town full of food snobs and fashion chasers. The waiting list was months long, and getting on it generally required the caller to either hold one of a select number of federal job titles, or to have recently graced multiple national magazine covers for the maitre 'd to even pick up the phone.

"Somebody wants to make an impression," he kept his tone as light and non-judgmental as he could manage.

"It's called a date." She leveled her eyes on his. "Sometimes, when a man likes a woman in a certain way, he takes her to dinner in places that have things called silverware, and drinks that don't come with lids, and somebody else besides her does all the cleanup afterwards."

"Well, the FBI is obviously paying him better than they do me," Donald gathered up his remaining plastic ware and tossed it in the conveniently located garbage can. "Have fun."

"I will!" she snapped back. The return to the office was silent and contemplative for both.

After pulling into his usual slot in the office parking lot, Ressler risked a side glance to his partner. "I could ..." he started.

"What, come along?" she retorted. She turned to face him more directly. "C'mon, Res, it's just a interview with an informant, we both do them all of the time." She smiled brightly until he felt his suddenly suspicious mood lighten a bit.

"Call me when you're done," he insisted. "I want to know exactly what he wants from you. I don't trust him, Davidson."

Before he could open his door, she rested her hand on his knee to delay his departure. His eyes slid downward first to observe in surprise how her hand was inching its way up to a far less neutral position. When he turned back towards her face in astonishment she was regarding him with a mix of exasperation and affection.

"Of course you don't trust him," Davidson exclaimed with bemusement. "You don't trust anyone. One of those many aspects of you I find so enchanting, Donny." She raised her other hand to gently stroke his neck and moved in closer to kiss him.

As soon as he realized her intent, he gently touched her face with his fingers and stopped her approach. "Cameras," he warned darkly.

She heaved a sigh and reluctantly pulled back. "You really know how to make a girl feel wanted," she muttered as she exited out of her own door instead. "I'll call you later tonight, I promise."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Agent Davidson meets again with Agent Smith.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another week has flown by...
> 
> Again, as always, thanks for your comments and kudos!

Elenna pleaded some vague personal excuse to Agent Cooper in order to leave work a couple of hours early for the second day in a row. There was no real legitimate reason to go, but she had quickly grown tired of Don studying her in silent trepidation on one hand, and Aram staring with awe and amazement on the other, so she decided it would be best to just get out of the place before either man drove her too crazy or caused their boss to grow suspicious of their unusual behaviors.  Several texts back and forth changed and re-changed their meeting locale, but as the rendezvous time approached they settled on Smith's hotel, the Jefferson.

When Elenna arrived, Smith was already lounging comfortably on one of the sofas scattered around the lobby. He smiled broadly as she came into view and rose to his feet to greet her. She bit her lip in sudden nervousness at the sight. Agent Smith was even more handsome than in her rosy memories of their previous encounter. Tonight's suit was formal and expensively tailored for the perfect flattering fit. He had even donned a tie in honor of the occasion, but it had already been tugged loose and charmingly askew before her arrival. That, and his sudden frank gaze of admiration in her direction, made her heart beat a little faster as she approached.

"Welcome, Agent Davidson," he said. "You certainly top the list of the FBI's most beautiful."

She briefly smiled her response as she took the seat next to him. "Why are you here?" she asked simply.

"Have you ever stayed in this hotel before?" he asked instead, as he turned his eyes towards the elegant display of flowers on the table in front of him. "It's fantastic. My room faces the White House."

"It's very nice," she assured him. "I  come to lovely events here all of the time." She didn't add that that it had been Red's favorite hotel in town. It was now off-limits to the fugitives, but the task force still used the place occasionally for other operations. The staff was always welcoming and cooperative.

"I'm sure many people find it a lovely and welcoming venue for their events," he reached up and deftly tapped his ear with his finger in warning.  She caught his meaning and nodded slightly.  It wasn't just her task force that appreciated the extra hospitality of the hotel.  He continued smoothly, "I wouldn't want to be late and lose our dinner reservation. Ready to go?" He offered her an arm in escort out the front entry, towards where the valet was jealously clutching the keys to the brand new yellow Mustang parked behind him. He reluctantly relinquished the keys with wistful praise on the upgrades in the latest model, to Smith's cheerful agreement.

"Nice ride," Elenna offered with carefully contained enthusiasm. She brushed her hand gently along the lengths of the fender before dropping in to the passenger seat. "I like Mustangs. I drive a completely restored '67."

"Really? I didn't know," he lied brightly in reply. "We're like minds, I guess. This one is just a rental. I keep my '71 in storage back in San Francisco." Smith described with evident delight at the memory, "I came across it in a street show a few years ago. It was an amazing find; original owner and all original parts. I bought it at first sight and only take it out of the garage for fun on the weekends. I use one of the official fleet cars for day to day driving."

"I've learned the hard way to always take a fed car out on cases," Elenna admitted. "You would think the bureau garage would be at least well-experienced at patching up bullets holes, but they never could get the paint finish right again. Luckily a friend told me about a great body shop in Annapolis that worked magic without awkward questions." The conversation flowed easily between them, due in a large part to their shared career. Both of them held a ready stock of humorous stories that were either too strange or too classified to tell the majority of new acquaintances. They took turns sharing with enthusiasm the rest of the ride to the restaurant.

Laura R.'s had added to its mystique by hiding itself away in an abandoned unmarked old warehouse in a decayed neighborhood. The directions the restaurant included with reservations were vague and rather misleading. They passed by a couple of dark-glassed SUVs pulled over with driver's scratching their heads and studying their phones, or interrogating local kids on bikes for help. Elenna was highly doubtful and beginning to wish she had come armed to this meeting when Smith confidently pulled into an empty decrepit lot and turned off the engine. She followed him gamely through the halls of a half-collapsed concrete structure until they suddenly reached a large suited man outside of a incongruously velvet-roped-off doorway. Here Smith handed over the car key and a false name for their reservation, and was welcomed as a valued returning guest.

On the other side of the door was a smallish room filled with a couple dozen small tables and fashionably post-modern decor. Elenna almost froze up when she recognized the faces of many of the patrons from her casual television viewing, but Smith graciously but firmly took her hand and steered her to a quiet table in the corner with an excellent view of the scene. He kept her attention locked on him until she relaxed and could stop uttering in amazement the names she had recognized within just a fifteen foot radius of their seats.

The food was delicious, and Smith was the ideal date: charming, funny, and seemingly enchanted by her company as well. Their little spark of attraction steadily flickered brighter and brighter, fanned by moments of shared laughter and accidental touches and heady moments of lingering gazes. Elenna shoved all of her other concerns to the back of her mind and allowed herself to fully enjoy the evening and several glasses of a good wine he had selected. She was surprised by his knowledgeable questioning of the wine steward, until he told her his former boss had retired to start a winery and had insisted Smith become his protege in that regard as well.

"I admit I prefer a good beer," he said with a shrug. "But I like to keep the old man happy." He set down his glass with a thud of finality. "I am enjoying this evening immensely, Elenna, but in order to write this off on my taxes as a business expense, we are going to have to talk some business.  This place is completely bug-free, I swear, which is one reason it's so popular with this crowd.  Feel free to say whatever you have to say."

She took a sip from her own glass. "What do you want to discuss, Agent Smith?"

Smith smiled broadly. "I imagine you've heard a number of stories about me by now, Agent Davidson. Some of them are true. I do in fact have a very high security clearance.  For example, I know all about Reddington's previous immunity deal and his working relationship with your task force."

The good feelings were abruptly gone. "I guess no one can keep a secret from you," she said with resignation.

"You managed very well," he contradicted her. "It took time and some careful digging to find out who was still maintaining unofficial contact with Reddington. But I see that the rest of the task force doesn't know about your continuing interaction. Why?"

"Reddington thinks we have a mole in the task force. Do you agree with him?"

She waited impatiently as he took another sip of wine. He replied finally, "I can vouch for the integrity of Aram and Agent Cooper, Elenna, but I don't know the rest of your team."

"You warned me to be careful," she reminded him.  "Why?"

He pursed his lips. "I think anyone should be very careful when dealing with Raymond Reddington. Obviously he must have done something good to earn your trust.  But the man has far more dangerous enemies than you've been told. Don't let him draw you any farther into his world or these people could easily become your enemies as well."

She shook her head. "You came here tonight because you want me to put you in contact with Reddington. What do you want with him?" The little flush of heat she felt in her chest, she realized with some astonishment, was a tiny sense of protectiveness for Bad Boy she had never imagined existing.

"I don't want to bring you any deeper into this situation than needed, Elenna. All I'm going to tell you is that he'll want to hear what I have to say to him."

She frowned. "All legends aside, how do I know I can trust you? I sure don't need you hauling off my CI to the federal pokey."

He shrugged. "I'll admit I'd love to see his treasonous ass locked up in chains again, but unfortunately that's not currently an option. It is very possible I will need his help in a difficult and developing situation, so as distasteful as this may be for me, I'll promise you I'll let him remain on the loose if you put us in contact."

"What is this difficult developing situation?" Elenna asked sharply.

She hadn't imagined his soft blue eyes could so quickly turn grey and hard. "That's far above your pay grade, Agent Davidson," he admonished. "All I am going to ask of you is to deliver a message to him for me as soon as possible. If Reddington is interested in a deal he can certainly find his own way to contact me. Your part in this will be over."

"I will deliver your message," she promised despite her lingering concerns, but insisted, "He's my CI, so I will stay firmly involved in this situation."

Two exquisite dessert plates were delivered with flare as soon as she finished speaking and left no chance for him to respond. Both oohed over the treats and Reddington was hastily disregarded. The mood immediately lightened as they shared tastes from each other's plates and returned without effort to their earlier comfortable banter.

One of the reasons Laura R.'s had grown so popular was the entertainment. Tonight featured a lovely young singer accompanied by an earnest young man on unplugged guitar. Smith and Elenna paused their conversation to enjoy the musical interlude. Two songs in, Elenna had heard the soft scraping of moving chair, and then felt the warmth of his hand resting lightly on her shoulder. She smiled into the darkness and leaned back slightly into his arm. When the singer promised to return with the next set twenty minutes and the lights came back up, Elenna turned around in her seat to face him directly.

"Elenna, I feel I should ask since the official section of our evening seems to have concluded," he said calmly. "Are you seeing anyone? If not, I would be very interested in continuing this evening in a non-professional manner."

She swallowed reflectively. "No, I'm not in any kind of relationship," she then stated flatly. "Where would you like to go?"

His sudden ill-intentioned smile made her flush slightly. "How about we take a little walk and see what else then comes to mind?" Smith suggested. She nodded eagerly and finished her drink as he gestured for the check.

Once outside she let him take her hand and lead the way from the building towards the sidewalk. "Can we get to the Capital from here?" he inquired with sudden interest.

"It's just a couple blocks away," she answered. He wrapped his arm around her waist and her head began to swim.

He shrugged sheepishly. "I've never had the chance to see the Capital at night. I only come to D.C. on assignments, and I usually just fly in and out with no time to look around." They reached the security fence outside the perimeter of the historic building. It was sheathed in metal rebar for the renovation project, but still powerful and inspirational. They circled around the perimeter while chatting away with typical date style comments and questions until they reached their starting point again and froze with indecision.

Smith nudged her towards a quiet alcove under a thickly foliaged tree. There he faced her directly, only inches apart, and gently lifted her chin with her fingers. "What do you think, Elenna?" he whispered. Then he kissed her without giving her a chance to respond.   At first she flailed with sudden guilt, then as the kiss deepened she gave in and responded eagerly, soaking in the scent of his unfamiliar cologne and the roughness of his jacket rubbing against her bare arms and shoulders.

When he pulled away he was smiling tenderly and with an obvious invitation in his darkened eyes. "Jefferson? It's a very nice hotel."

"Yeah, it is," she whispered reluctantly in his ear. "And my car is waiting for me there. Reddington?"

He sighed in disappointment. "Yeah, I know." Smith broke the embrace and took a couple of steps backwards. "This is the message," he said as he pulled an envelope from his jacket pocket. "Do you think you can reach Reddington tonight?"

"He doesn't carry a phone with him. I'll call his.. partner," she finished lamely.

"Elizabeth Keen," he easily recalled the name from his readings. "Formerly your partner and friend."

"Still friend." Elenna's retort was sharper than she had intended. His expression darkened so slightly, Elenna could almost pretend it was just trick of the streetlight. Then he grinned again and she quickly forgot her sudden apprehension.

"How about we meet again tomorrow evening?" his voice had dropped seductively and she shivered. "The Jefferson has a restaurant. And room service."

Aram and the rumors were dead on, she thought wildly, but she couldn't stop herself from nodding vigorously. He took her hand again and together they retraced their steps to the restaurant and his car. The ride back to the hotel was too short; she really didn't want to leave behind either the soft leather seats or the handsome man just inches away. After stopping his car behind hers in the underground parking garage, his hand dropped down to rest on her exposed knee and she closed her eyes and sucked in her breath.

"Good night, Elenna," he whispered into her ear, then laid a series of soft kisses from there across to her mouth. "Reddington could wait," he muttered against her lips.

"Good night, Smith!" she forced herself to break away and fly out of her car door.  He grinned as he leaned over to view her through the passenger window. "Thank you for a lovely evening," he called out. Her hands were shaking as she made several attempts to pull her keys out of her evening bag. After what felt like forever with him watching, she managed to get the car door open and herself situated behind the wheel. When he saw that she was safely inside and engine started, he tapped his horn lightly and pulled out of her way. Then she smacked her forehead down on the center of the steering wheel.

"Elenna Morgan Davidson, you are a two-timing, cheating evil bitch!" she exclaimed furiously out loud. She pulled out onto the road, still cursing herself out for giving into temptation, but at the same time still allowing pleasant memories to keep creeping back into her consciousness. She honestly tried to follow a policy of never talking on her cell when driving, but she desperately needed the immediate distraction from her illicit thoughts that Reddington would certainly provide. She also knew she would eventually need to call Don and fill him in on the working parts of the evening, but that could easily wait until after her next meeting, she assured herself firmly.

Liz picked up on the third ring, sleepy voiced and confused. "El, what's wrong?"

"Oh, freaking everything," Elenna declared, but quickly backpedaled. "Liz, I was contacted by someone ... can I talk to Red?"

"Certainly," Liz nudged her sleeping fiancé until he grunted a wordless question. "It's Elenna," she explained with her hand over the phone. He nodded blearily as he rubbed his eyes and took the mobile from her.

"Agent Davidson, how can I help you?" somehow he sounded just as chipper as any other time of day.

"Do you know anything about an Agent Smith from San Francisco?" Elenna asked. Even saying his name brought a warmth to her cheeks, caused by the combination of both shame and lingering attraction.

Red remained silent so she continued speaking. "I just came from a meeting with him. He wants me to hand deliver you a message. Can we do that tonight?"

"Of course," he finally spoke. "I'm quite interested to hear why Agent Smith would contact me. Lizzie will shortly text you an address and time." He paused. "Will Agent Ressler be there as well?"

"I thought I would let Res get some sleep and fill him in tomorrow morning instead," she answered casually.

"Fine. I'll see you soon." He handed the phone back to Lizzie.

She read the sudden concern in his expression with alarm. "Raymond, is everything okay?"

He kissed her hand, the one with the ruby and diamond ring he had found in a lovely shop in Munich and nervously hoarded for three months. "Everything is fine, sweetheart. You can come with me if you like."

"No, you and Elenna have a good talk." she kissed his cheek and teased him lightly about the late night bristles. "Fill me in when you get back."

 

 

The address Elenna shortly received was for a squat dumpy little diner in one of the working class areas of town. This late it was empty except for the cook, one tired waitress and a couple of young dark-haired men attracting attention through their evident nervousness at being noticed. They eyed her with consternation as she passed them by to reach the table Red had claimed in the far corner.

"So how many times has this place been raided by the terrorism task forces?" was her first question when she sat down. "You must know it's a legendary hotspot for jihadist recruiters."

"Not anymore, Agent Davidson," he assured her. "Since your colleagues made such a reliable habit of coming in and shaking down the clientele, the only visitors now are people who love the tabbouleh and wannabes such as the boys over there who don't know the real action has moved elsewhere. You look quite lovely tonight. Did you go somewhere nice?"

"Smith and I had dinner at Laura R.'s" she explained. Two mugs of coffee were settled between them, and she eagerly grabbed hers and drained it half-way before setting it down again.

"A very lovely restaurant. I'm quite fond of their desserts. Just the two of you?" His eyes had narrowed slightly, and for one surreal moment she realized Red was doing a really great impression of her father during high school when she had come home too long past her curfew.

She couldn't help flushing in response, and quickly distracted attention away from this with a hearty scowl and humph. "Yeah, I think I can manage a dinner operation all by myself," she snapped. "He's a good American boy, you know, not some internationally hunted criminal."

Red leaned back in his seat with his coffee in hand and an innocent facade. "I agree he's quite the hero. But now he wants to dirty his hands with the likes of me. I'm so curious why." He fell silent and blinked expectantly.

She handed over the envelope and waited for him to peruse its contents. Reddington read it through twice, then gently set the refolded paper back down on the table. "I will need to meet with both you and Agent Ressler in the morning, Agent Davidson," he said with finality. "And Lizzie as well. There is a story I should tell all of you before I confer with Agent Smith. It's about the end of the world."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team prepares to hear Smith's message.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My daughter bought me the most awesome t-shirt online - advertising Nick's Pizza. Its always fun when I'm out in public and people get the reference. We have such cool people in this fandom!!
> 
> FBI agents that belong to me: Elenna Davidson and David Smith
> 
> FBI agents I wish belonged to me: Elizabeth Keen and Donald Ressler... Fox Mulder and Dana Scully... Olivia Dunham and Lincoln Lee...

One of Red's nefarious criminal skills doubled as a positive quality of a traveling roommate; he was very good at navigating his way through dark and unfamiliar houses without disturbing any sleeping residents. Tonight though his solicitous efforts had been wasted. When he tiptoed into their bedroom, long past midnight, he discovered to his astonishment that Liz was still wide awake. She was leaning back a pile of pillows propped up against the wooden headboard of the bed, idly paging through a bridal magazine in the glow of the end table light. Upon realizing he had entered the room, she immediately dropped the magazine off the side of the bed to the ground and out of his view, and offered up a token guilty smile. He raised his eyebrows with a little mild disapproval, but otherwise pretended he hadn't recognized the subject matter of her reading.

Her wedding gown was a private side project of one of the most famous Paris-based design houses, one who owed Red a number of favors and was quite willing to pay off the debt with a one-of-a-kind dress design. Liz and the head designers had assembled together several times already and finally agreed on a vision for the top half of the gown, but she still felt some nagging doubts about what seemed like an excessive number of ruffles on the skirt, and her mild challenge had infuriated the celebrity designer in charge. She was supposed to go back to France the next week for the first fitting, and she hoped to arrive with a compromise style in mind to offer that would at least reduce if not eliminate the flounce. During their long flight back to the U.S., Liz has started what she thought was an amusing commentary on her minor dilemma, but at the sight of the pictures ready for viewing in her hand, Raymond shushed her abruptly and turned away with eyes averted. After some awkwardly answered questions, she had realized with poignant surprise that Raymond held such strong superstitious dread about seeing her gown ahead of time he was uncomfortable even around photos of any bridal dresses. So for his sake she had since tried to keep her fashion research hidden out his view.  One of her goals for the week was to solicit Elenna's opinion on a design.

Red plunked down on the foot of the bed to untie his shoes. Even though his felt her attention centered on him he couldn't help the heavy sigh he emitted as he wearily leaned forward, elbows on knees as he tented his fingers in front of his thin-lipped grimace. He gazed out at some spot on the carpet in outward silence while his head filled up with the noise of his competing concerns.

The dress was forgotten when Liz realized the true depths of the despair that had come home with him. She climbed out from underneath her warm covers to huddle close at his side and clasp his hand in hers. "What happened?" Liz demanded.

He pulled her hand up to his lips and kissed it several times before nestling it against his cheek. "Smith knows about the Alliance. He sent me the starting date for the timeline. Much sooner than we had estimated, my dearest."

"Oh," she breathed and fell silent. Four months had passed since William Price had shared with them the timeline of destruction the Alliance had planned for in their most secret files. He had included numerous details but not the start date and location - the most important information needed in order to stop the onslaught.

"What have you heard about Agent Smith?" he asked her suddenly.

She shrugged. "People told all sorts of stories about him at Quantico. Honestly, I never thought he was a real agent, more like the FBI version of the Robin Hood legend."

"He's quite real," her fiancé assured her with a fresh grimace, "and a constant irritation for me over the years. He's been quite efficient at eliminating many of my favorite customers." He paused for a moment, then added thoughtfully, "If he truly means to fight the Alliance he would be a formidable ally to have on our side."

Liz frowned. "Or he is a front for the Alliance. He used Davidson to contact you?"

Raymond's eyes flickered with disdain. "Yes. In typical Smith fashion he set his sights on the loveliest unattached woman in my trusted inner circle. He escorted her to dinner at Laura R.'s tonight and apparently was quite the charmer. She seemed a little smitten with him, Lizzie."

"El won't fall for tricks like that," Liz was insistent, and Raymond decided to keep his own opinion on the matter to himself. "Are you going to tell Davidson and Ressler about the Alliance?" she nudged the subject towards their larger concern.

"I haven't decided yet," he answered honestly. "But their help could be invaluable if Smith is correct and the timeline is beginning so soon."

"We said we wouldn't involve them," Liz reminded him. "It would be too difficult to guarantee their safety outside the protection of our own operation."

"Yes, my dearest, but that was before this opportunity presented itself," he argued gently. "You know them better, of course, but I would imagine both Agent Ressler and Agent Davidson would gladly take this opportunity to protect their fellow innocent citizens. We need not tell them exactly who is responsible for these coming attacks."

Liz yawned suddenly. "Let's talk more about this tomorrow," she suggested. "We don't need to decide tonight." He nodded in agreement. She retreated back underneath the pile of blankets of her side of the bed; her compromise in their polite but never-ending battle over acceptable bedroom temperature. He chatted loudly about meaningless odds and ends as he crossed and recrossed the room, tidying as he went as well as finding a number of other mundane little tasks to complete on the way. Liz allowed him a few minutes of this before mumbling a gentle complaint and an order to turn out the lights.

"I'm sorry, my dear," he repented. He immediately switched off the lamps, returning the room to the utter darkness that can only happen in caves and hotel rooms with their thick window drapes. Raymond paused for a moment at the windows to listen to the dull roar of traffic far below them on the Beltway. All of the finer hotels in D.C. were now off-limits for the fugitives; this was a newer place in the suburbs that just didn't have the same feel as his favorite old haunts.

"Raymond?" her voice was sleepy but still held enough edge to get him quickly moving and under the thin blanket covering his side of the bed. He kissed her forehead gently then lay on his back next to her, prepared to stare at the ceiling alone for some time. Instead she spun around on her side to rest her chin on his arm. "Are you going to get any sleep tonight?" she chided.

He didn't turn towards her. Instead he twisted on to his side facing the other direction and let his words float out into the darkness of the bedchamber. "I had hoped these days would never come, Lizzie. I always hoped that these schemes were just arrogant bluster from vain old men and would never actually come to pass."

"You don't know this message isn't just more bluster," Liz reminded him. She stroked his arm gently, avoiding the array of scars where she knew he would still recoil from being touched.

Unseeable in the complete darkness, he clenched his eyes shut and bit his lip. "I don't know what to do, Elizabeth. I don't know how to win this," he admitted. It was the voice and not the words themselves that made her wrap him tightly in a caring embrace. No other person besides his future wife would ever be allowed to witness the fear and sheer human frailty that stripped away his usual booming tones of confidence leaving behind just this hoarse whisper. She had no idea what to say in response, so she only held him tightly in the silence until weariness took them both to troubled sleep.

 

 

Agent Ressler woke up sprawled out on his couch just minutes before his alarm was programmed to ring. As he stretched and yawned his bleary eyes took in his phone resting on the floor next to him, and his righteous anger from the night before abruptly returned. There were still no messages.

e had spent the previous evening on that couch pretending to watch two recorded basketball games, one after the other, with the same warm beer can clenched in his hands the entire time. The phone had spent the duration of the first game resting on its charger on the table by the front door, but had been moved to within easy arm's reach for the second. When the second game had ended he punched the remote's off switch without knowing the final scores, or even able to say for sure which teams had played against each other. Then he had rested his stockinged feet up on the coffee table in the habit Elenna had recently chided him about and continued his stream of obsessive thoughts in silence until drifting off.

Agent Davidson always contacted him promptly after completing an operation.  But last night she had never called.

As hard as he had tried to reason this fact away, he could not find any acceptable excuse for her not calling him with a simple recap of her meeting. He had had partners in the past who hadn't followed this rule. Liz had been terrible sometimes at keeping him in the loop. He shrugged with some humor at that thought. Of course he realized later why she had been so reluctant sometimes to share intel with him. But Elenna had been different; from her first days on the task force she had been almost militant in following basic protocol. There had been numerous times they had both been so weary and worn after operations they could barely keep their eyes open or their heads off their desks but they still managed to give each other just the simplest reassurances that all was well or at least okay.

This was just a dinner meeting, he told himself again while nursing his fresh rush of anger. He stormed off to the kitchen to start some coffee brewing before hopping in the shower. A simple dinner. One that should have ended early and with at least a quick call. He muttered some curse words at the spilled coffee grounds on his counter. He didn't even have an excuse to worry that she was in some kind of danger instead of just careless. If there had been any trouble at the meeting last night, he knew one of Red's constant observers trailing her would have called it in, and Don would have gotten that kind of news directly from Liz instead. There was no legitimate reason for Davidson not to have called.

He leaned against the fridge door and heaved a sigh. Of course he had heard of Agent Smith. Agent Ressler had joined the FBI within a few years of 9/11, when every agent's primary duty switched towards frantically trying to protect the homeland against any more attacks. The stories spread suddenly and rampantly within the intelligence community of the operative who seemed to be part of every major mission and responsible for many of the successes. Every field agent knew someone else who claimed to have worked a case with Agent Smith, but it wasn't until his security clearance had reached a high enough level that Agent Ressler met anyone who could admit out loud they knew Smith personally. A partner of his on the original Reddington task force had gone out drinking one night with Don and the rest of the team to mourn the loss of his girlfriend to the stranger. 'I really liked the guy, too,' his friend had admitted with a drunken shrug. 'Hell, I still respect him, even if he did steal away my girl. He's a damn good agent if a lousy human being.'

 

When Agent Ressler arrived at their office and spotted Davidson seated calmly at her desk, he froze in the doorway with disbelief at the infuriating sight. She kept staring at her laptop display with an expression of forced interest as if she ignored him long enough he would finally go away and leave her in peace. Finally he slammed their office door behind him with a sudden viciousness that nearly sent her flying from her seat in surprise. Her resulting bark of wounded reproach only enraged him even further.

"So you're not dead," he snapped. "Why the hell did you not call me?"

She glanced up with an expression dripping with mental and physical fatigue. "We have a meeting to attend this morning. I already told Cooper we'll be gone most of the morning."

Without looking his way again she grabbed her purse and hustled out the door without him. He followed a few steps behind, growing angrier in synch with his rising confusion. She was going to let the elevator doors snap shut on him but he shoved his hand in the final tiny gap and forced them open. He cornered her and forced her to meet his eyes. "You need to tell me what is going on, Davidson," he demanded. "Right now." They had a few precious minutes to talk openly. The elevator was the only other location in the building besides Cooper's chamber where truly private conversation was possible. Everyone assumed that was the reason the thing ran so damn slow.

Her face flushed brilliant red in response. "You don't have any right to tell me what to do, professionally or otherwise."

His face darkened as well. With his arms crossed in exasperation, he exclaimed, "Are you angry at me? Is this some kind of 'where is this relationship going' talk? Because I don't believe this is the time nor the place for that sort of thing."

"There's no relationship to talk about," she smacked the button for the exit floor again while cursing the ridiculously ugly car under her breath. "Where I come from, a couple rounds of casual sex does not constitute a relationship. Now get your head in the game, because last night for the first time ever I saw Raymond Reddington scared shitless. Smith's message really messed him up."

"So Red was the reason why he contacted you." Don furled his eyebrows as he pondered this. The rest of that statement was going to have to wait for later consideration. "What does Agent Smith want with him?"

"I don't know. That's why we're meeting with him and Liz this morning." The sound of that name spoken in that voice had caused Elenna to bash in the elevator button even harder several more times. He retreated to the far corner of the car and fell silent.

Finally the heavy doors slid apart enough for her to slip through and marched forward. He tried to keep up with her through the security line, but one of the men there stopped him to ask about some minor detail and Ressler lost track of his partner. He was almost surprised to see her nervously pacing next to his car; at this point he sort of expected she would have driven off without him in her own vehicle. He simply beeped the car open and let her mutely take the shotgun seat. Her only comment during the drive was the address of their meeting place. There were times he thought he detected some change in her attitude; once she turned to him with what looked possibly like contriteness but he wasn't going to risk poking her mood with a stick just yet. It was enough just now to deal with the upcoming meeting with Red and Liz without inciting another painful outburst.

Twenty awkward minutes later they arrived at their destination.  This time they were meeting at a small branch of the D.C.library system in one of the nice middle class neighborhoods outside of the city. By the time the two agents arrived, Red and Liz were already settled inside one of the small assembly rooms members of the library could sign out for private functions. Before Elenna could pull open the assembly room door and move out of his reach, Don decided on the spur of the moment to tug her back by the arm and pull her brusquely down the small corridor lined with offices that would be his last and best chance of continuing the conversation. "We need to talk, Elenna," he whispered furiously. "You and me. Because something is going on I don't understand and..."

She efficiently broke out of his grasp in a way that made him yank back his hand with a yelp of sudden pain. "We have work to do, Agent Ressler," she stated flatly and spun on her heel to storm back to the conference room without him.

"...because it wasn't just casual for me," he finished quietly to the empty space she had left behind.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red reveals his secret to his partners.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone is having a lovely summer! I am ... forgive me for going off-topic, but I'm so darned ecstatic that the first of my loofah vines is about to flower. Seriously, I had no idea that loofahs are actually a variety of gourd until a lovely person at the Mother Earth News festival in April gave me a couple of seeds to try. I can't wait to see my first real, living loofah! 
> 
> Comments, kudos, and random seed packets are always welcome around here!

Ressler wondered if he would ever stop flinching at the sight of Liz and Reddington cuddled together, holding hands and laughing quietly at a private joke.

"Good morning, Agent Ressler," Red reluctantly turned away from Liz; his expression dissipating back to stoic as he faced the arrivals. "I'm not sure what Agent Davidson has already told you..."

"Why did Agent Smith contact you?" Ressler snapped. Red was thrown for only a minute by his unexpected vehemence, until he realized he wasn't the real target of Don's anger. Elenna had retreated to the far corner of the room to perch rigidly on the edge of a chair with her hands clasped and resting primly on her knees.

After a glance towards Elenna for confirmation, under the table and out of his view Liz quietly tugged the ring from her left hand and slipped it into her pocket. "Don, there are some things we haven't told you before..." she started apprehensively.

He turned her way and swallowed deeply when he caught her meaning. "You mean your famous secrets. The ones that can get you killed." He took a position on the opposite side of the table from the couple and leaned forward with palms planted on the highly polished wood. Liz grimaced slightly when she recognized that maneuver from so many 'lister interviews of the past. "I take it Smith knew something about these secrets?"

"Yes." Red pulled out of his inner jacket pocket the envelope he had received the previous night, and placed it on the table in front of the agent. At the sight of it, Elenna approached warily from her distant position to hover around her partner, just close enough to be able to read the message she knew he would find inside. As he opened the flap and unfolded the enclosed sheet, she stared directly at the envelope and tried not to think about what had been happening just minutes before it had been placed in her hands. The message itself instantly knocked all of those thoughts far from her attention.

The words had been quickly jotted in bold block print and a shocking contrast against the creamy beige of the expensive high-bond paper.

 

_Asheville, NC on July 4_

_will only be the first event._

_Do you want to stop them?_

 

"What is going to happen in Asheville?" Elenna was the first of the pair to react, but Ressler was close behind with "What does he mean by 'first'?"

Red abruptly rose up and strode away from the table towards the room's bank of windows. His fixated on the small playground behind the building, where one of the librarians was reading out loud to a knot of squirmy preschoolers. The agents used this pause to school their first shocked reactions back into professional facades. As the moment stretched out they studied each other and Liz; her eyes were closed as she sensed and empathized with the hearfeltstruggle of the man behind her.

Facing this last step before the Rubicon, Red once again questioned himself whether he truly intended to share the heavy burden of the secret he had born alone for decades. He had spent most of the hours since leaving his conference with Elenna mentally rehearsing how he intended to break the news, but now the time had arrived, the first words of his script stubbornly refused to come to mind. Finally he turned around again, stood with his hands clasped behind his back and addressed them all with a different offer. "I could tell you just the minimal intel you will need to know about the nature of the coming events; just enough so that you can help us prevent them without taking on the risks of full knowledge. I could lie to you about the identity of those behind the attacks. That would be the safest option for the both of you."

"But we would be less effective," Ressler replied immediately.

"Yes." Red admitted. He started moving, keeping in constant motion as he strolled around the room with his gaze locked above all of their heads in an effort to maintain his air of detachment. Even Liz felt the breeze of cool impartiality as he passed her by. "If I told you all that I know, what apparently Agent Smith knows as well, it will place you in the same constant danger under which we now exist. I have enemies, Agent Ressler, the kind you don't want."

Elenna shuddered slightly at the mention of enemies, reminiscent of Smith's warning to her last night. "What are they planning to do in Asheville?" she asked quietly.

Red's eyes darted off into space for the last second of internal debate. Then he leveled his gaze on the young agent as he spoke, seeing her blanch further at every new sentence, but now that he was fully committed unable to cut off the flow of words. "Asheville will be the center of a major terrorist attack, biological in nature and quite dramatic so that the news channels can cycle the video over and over and keep frightening the masses." His ironic tone drained away as he added reluctantly, "The death toll will likely be in the high thousands. And it will be only the first event. More cities will suffer similar fates within the next few months."

"Who? Who is responsible for this?" Ressler demanded. "You tell me now, Reddington..."

"Res, trust me, you don't need to know," Liz abruptly pleaded. She trusted her remaining ability to capture his attention as she kept on urging him to drop the question. "These people will hurt you when they learn you are involved, if only as a way to hurt us."

He listened because it was Liz, but as soon as she had stopped her pleading to catch a breath, he turned back to the older man instead. "I can't fight an enemy if I don't know who they are," Ressler insisted. "I want to know the full truth right now. Don't lie, don't withhold, don't play any of your games."

"Agent Davidson?" Red turned to the other partner for her consent. She had ignored both Res and Liz to heavily drop into a seat and lose herself in her own interiors efforts to wrap her head around what she had just learned. In a minute so much abruptly made sense; she had known it would take something extraordinary to force Smith to approach someone like Reddington for help. When she heard her name repeated with urgency she spun sharply to the source. She nodded mutely in response when she heard Red's question.

Red sighed as his last hope of reprieve disappeared. The words he had silently recited to himself over and over the night before burst back to his memory. He spoke them out loud gingerly, as if they were wasps that would turn and sting if he jostled them too much. As careful as he was, they still stung powerfully, these words that had once before cost him so dearly and could easily do so again. "The group responsible refers to itself as the Alliance. They are a collection of like-minded powerful men and women who have infiltrated themselves within the governments of nearly all of the world's nation states including this country. They have been in operation for at least seventy-five years, working to manipulate multiple world events towards the achievement of their main goal."

"What do they want?" Ressler demanded with such a furious intensity that surprise forced Red into hasty silence. Liz glanced back with concern to his other partner, whose furrowed eyebrows indicated she didn't understand his response, either, and was growing concerned as well.

Red finally stopped his frantic pacing and reached out to rest his hand on Liz's shoulder for both of their comfort. He leaned back against the edge of the table and began the next part of the story. "They believe that the world is overpopulated. They intend to use a variety of weapons of mass destruction to weed out those they deem undesirable, and restart society with a manageable number of chosen families, some men of useful distinctive talents and a quantity of productive laborers. Asheville is just the start of a process that would bring the human population down to about ten percent of its current level." He let this linger in the air for an uncomfortable number of minutes before adding, "Smith likely approached me because I am their worst fear; I possess documents detailing their goal and plans along with a copy of an older membership list. I must hope that he wants to help me stop them, but it is also equally likely he's working with them and intends to eliminate me as their greatest threat."

Red had studied the younger man's expression as he spoke. The anger and bewilderment that crossed his face were expected, but the quick flashes of guilt were not.

Agent Davidson's face was stormy and her posture confrontational. "When did you find out about these plans?" she asked under a thin veneer of calm. The smear on Smith was noted but for the time being ignored.

"I was invited to join the Alliance in the spring of 1990 and at first in my youthful ignorance and flattered by the recognition I accepted their offer," he answered with great reluctance. "Later, when I learned the full extent of their despicable creed I stole as many of their documentary files as I could and escaped."

Elenna scowled. "And left your family behind and unprotected."

"My family will not be part of today's discussion, Agent Davidson," he replied coldly as Liz squeezed his hand. "But yes, the Alliance is the primary reason I needed to disappear. Before last night I didn't know when they intended to put their schemes into action. I thought perhaps we had decades, not a month."

"Genocide," Liz had learned all of this from him months earlier, but the retelling of the story still chilled her. She hugged herself tightly despite the humid warmth of the non-air-conditioned room.

Red contradicted her gently, "No, dearest, I don't believe a word has been invented yet to describe the deliberate destruction of not just an ethnic group but nearly the entire human race."

"I can't believe this," Elenna stomped back away from the table towards the door. She turned back with arms crossed in front of her chest to glare at all of them in turn, daring them to argue back. "No one has enough power to pull off this kind of Dan Brown scheme."

His eyes were kind and sympathetic and weary as Red turned towards the younger woman. "The membership includes king and tyrants and Senators and most of the richest men in the world. This group has existed for at least seventy five years, with a set of core families controlling the leadership and new members nominated by aging members to replace them and keep their population stable. I can assure you I have proof they are quite capable of pulling this off."

Elenna was on fire. "Then why didn't you come forward with your proof and stop them twenty years ago?" she demanded angrily.

He was growing impatient in return. "What could I do, Agent Davidson? Go to the news organizations? Sit down for an on-air interview with Anderson Cooper and calmly explain a New World Order is coming? No one would believe me. I'm a criminal, you see, a coward who ran away and hid from his richly deserved punishment for treason and murder. The Alliance has allowed me to remain alive only out of fear that my death could trigger the release of information in a way that just might be credible enough for the public to accept."

"How would Smith know about this?" Ressler asked. He had abandoned his seat as well. He wasn't normally much of a pacer, but he couldn't force himself to remain still any longer. His laps around the perimeter of the chamber were carefully calculated to keep at some distance from any of the other people in the room.

"I don't know," Red admitted. "But I can't say I'm too surprised. You must have learned by now that he is a very powerful man within the operations of this country's government. There are very few secrets in this nation to which he does not have some access."

Elenna interjected, "Smith wants to help you stop the Alliance. That's why he came to find you."

"I hope so, Agent Davidson," Red sighed. "But I find it more likely he's come in a new attempt to retrieve my proof and render me harmless."

"Or maybe this has nothing to do with the Alliance at all," Liz suggested. "Maybe he's using their threat as way to lure you in for his own reasons."

He acknowledged this with a tilt of his head and moment of thought. "Possibly, dearest, but doubtful. He has never shown any interest in dismantling my operations in the past and I will admit he has had ample opportunities. We're certainly not compatriots, but he's never been a direct threat to me. When do you expect to have contact with him again, Agent Davidson?"

"We're meeting for dinner again tonight," she answered. Ressler flinched in response.

Red pretended he hadn't noticed the young man's reaction. "Give him my current telephone number and tell him to contact me directly. I am willing to hear what he has to say."

"Raymond..." Liz laid a hand on his arm in warning. "Are you sure you want to trust him?"

"I have to, Lizzie dear. If what he says is true and the plans are now in motion, I have to take any possibility of a useful ally. The stakes are far too high for any overabundance of caution on my part now." Red reached for his hat in his usual sign that he considered a conversation now ended. The others were in full agreement with the timing; this had been too much to take in all at once. Further discussion was going to have to wait until the first shock had passed and real comprehension of the scope of the scheme was possible. In meditative silence they filed out of the chamber towards the main exit of the library.

Outside of the building, Elenna pulled Liz aside for quick moment of whispered conversation while the men waited together nearby. Ressler used the time to check his phone messages and pretend something urgently needed his attention. He felt the older man's eyes burning into him but Red offered no further conversation. Elenna brushed past her partner on the way to the car, and with a minimum of words he offered Liz a somewhat friendly good-bye and followed behind.

He remained silent for the first few miles of driving to brood on the fresh new set of concerns that had just fallen in his lap. She kept her eyes focused on the bland suburban sprawl speeding by outside of the passenger window. "Don," she said softly into the glass. "Do you believe him?"

He was silent so long she uttered his name again in confusion. Then came his quiet response. "I believe Red. We knew he had to have some urgent reason to abandon his family and live the way he's done for so long. Some things make more sense now."

Her breath hitched several times before she spoke. "Can we stop them?" she asked finally.

"You really think this Smith will help?" Ressler's tone strongly hinted towards his doubt. He could sense her hackles raise up immediately as a result. Then she sucked in a deep breath and let it out with a tired sigh.

Her shoulders slumped as she turned to face him directly for the first time in hours. "Can we please not talk about this now?" she begged. "I'm tired and hungry and I don't want to deal with this crappy end of the world business for a little while." He complied and she returned to her boring view.

When they were within a few block radius of the office, she suddenly spoke up again. In a soft hesitant voice she asked, "Don, can we go somewhere else for a few hours? Let's pick up something quick to eat and take a little walk on the Mall. We can be one of those silly couples making out on a park bench and be happy for a little while." With some hesitation she laid her palm on his arm, then slid it up to stroke her fingers gently across his shoulder and neck. "Or take me back to your apartment and make love to me. You know I'll pull myself back together and be just fine later, but for a little while... can we just have some time together, please?" She rested her forehead against his shoulder. His chest heaved painfully at her rare vulnerability. The voice in the back of his head whispered loudly to agree with her and spin the car around.

But he kept the car pointed towards their original destination. "We can't do that," he stated flatly "We can't keep making excuses and disappearing or someone is going to get suspicious. We can't risk any investigations starting up, especially now. Its not just us that would get hurt as a result."

"I hate this job," she yanked back away, using her hand to shield her reddening eyes from his view. "I want a life. I want a man who isn't afraid to kiss me in public. I want to have no freaking idea how many people are going to die if these plans are for real and we can't stop them."

"Obviously you're upset," he declared as calmly as possible after her sudden outburst had ended. He turned the car into the narrow entryway leading up to the main parking floor. "And we should talk about it, but now is not the right time. Now we need to stay professional and get back to work before people notice something is off and the gossip causes us even more problems."

"I get it," she answered too quickly with a bitter chuckle. "Its all about the job, right? That's what really matters. That, and maybe saving a small city from destruction. Forget any personal mushy stuff that might get in the way."

He forced himself to swallow though it suddenly got very difficult. "We'll talk later, El," he promised.

"Sure we will. Big open honest discussion, the kind we're so good at." As soon as the car pulled into the parking space she released her seat belt and jumped out of the car. Her purse and workbag were still on the floor behind her seat. She yanked at the backdoor handle and snapped at him to release the lock.

He did, then reached back to gently touch her arm when she reached in. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "I can't... be there for you right now."

"Will you ever, Don?" she asked in return. When he dropped his eyes in sudden guilt she nodded slightly at the unwanted confirmation. "I get it," she repeated with an aching smile. "Partners with benefits, that's all we were ever going to be." She slammed the car door shut and shouldered her bags. "I'll see you later."

"Where are you going?" he demanded over the roof of the car.

"Personal business," she replied over her shoulder. "Nothing that would concern you. Get back to work, Agent Ressler."

He watched her the whole way to her car, knowing that he was a damned fool for letting her go, telling himself that he should forget all of the hidden cameras and microphones and just go after her. He could imagine the scene vividly; fervent kisses separated by his swearing to love her and protect her from the Alliance, the devil, and anyone else who would dare threaten to take her away from him.

But it stopped him again; the awful dark thing that had been there so long, clutching his heart within its unyielding, uncaring embrace. Yet again it wouldn't let him go forward, but instead forced him to just stand there and observe her checking back repeatedly, as if she couldn't believe he was still frozen in place and actually letting her go. So she left with one last bewildered glance as she drove past him slowly, and he went back inside just in time to slip into the first of his afternoon meetings.

 

Her first action was to release the tears that had been threatening for some time. She sobbed as she drove, both hoping and dreading that her phone would start ringing the cheerful tune that she had assigned as his ring tone. After some time aimlessly floating around like detritus in the rivers of DC traffic, she finally wiped away the larger streaks of tears from her cheeks and took a couple of soothing deep breaths to calm her last heaving gasps. During the next red light she grabbed the phone from the far corner of the footwell where she had heaved it and pressed the third number on her call list.

"Elenna?" Liz's voice was welcoming but distracted as she had tried to pull on her heels at the same time as answering the phone. When her friend didn't answer at first, she focused and truly listened and caught the hitches in Elenna's breaths. "El, what's wrong?" she demanded in alarm.

"Oh, Lizzie, I'm ... do you have a few minutes for me?" Elenna asked humbly. "I could use a friend."

"Oh, girl..." Liz looked around the hotel bedroom wildly as if a solution would present itself there. "I wish I could, but the jet is waiting for me. I had to take Raymond's place at a few essential business meetings this afternoon so he could be free to connect with Agent Smith. I could come back tonight if you need me to. What happened?"

"Oh, its nothing," Elenna lied brightly. "Silly stuff. Don't worry, it will all be fine by tonight, I'm sure. Have fun in New York committing those felonies." Liz made the same wry face she always donned during her friend's teasing, and assured her that she would be back in D.C. by the next afternoon and ready to talk. Elenna assured her in return that she was fine and would catch up with her later.

She hung up, and stared dumbly at the tiny screen throughout an entire red light cycle, until the cars behind her started up a a symphony of honks and beeps. A few blocks later she gave up, pulled over into a busy strip mall parking lot and dialed again.

"Elenna?" Smith's greeting was careful. "Is something wrong?"

"Can you meet me a little earlier?" she asked, somehow managing to keep her voice calm and settled though the rest of her was shaking. "Maybe now?"

"Certainly. I'm still at my hotel," he said. "Where would you..."

"Give me a room number and I'll be right there knocking on your door," she answered.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ressler's and Davidson's afternoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just learned that the longest written work in the English language is actually fan fiction for the Mario Brothers fandom - over a million words so far. (Daughter + Tumblr = lots of useless interesting trivia). I swear I will get this story done in far less than a million words!!!

Aram had been having one of those precious rare days when everything just seemed to run smoothly, with so many tasks already accomplished that he pondered maybe just for once departing the Post Office before moonrise and actually having a weekend. But judging by the way Agent Ressler was hurling through the sea of empty desks towards his little corner of the war room, it seemed like his perfect day was about to take a sudden dramatic downturn."What can I do for you?" he asked with his usual pleasant tone while quietly hoping he wasn't the reason for the agent's fury.

Ressler dropped into an empty seat with arms folded across his chest and ankle balanced on opposite knee. "I know Agent Davidson consulted with you about a certain federal employee yesterday. I need to see all the intel you can get me on that man right now."

He had wasted the last two hours calling up old buddies and everyone else he vaguely knew with intelligence background that he believed he would have any chance of arm-twisting into giving up info on Agent Smith. No one would even admit to recognizing the name; even the people who had bragged about their connections with the legend in the past. During his time wasted on hold or expecting call backs, Don had wondered with bitter bemusement whether Red was working his illicit connections today as well on the same goal. Hopefully he was having better luck, Res told himself after yet another potential lead shut itself down.

By the last of his dozen calls his frustration had reached the boiling point and he spontaneously decided to try the tactic that two hours ago he had deemed far too risky. If Cooper or anyone monitoring their network traffic realized his interest in the mystical agent, it would be obvious that it wouldn't be because of any of his current cases. He would be bringing on unwanted attention towards his off-record activities, the same consequence he had sanctimoniously refused to risk just a few hours ago for Elenna's sake. He labeled himself a pathetic hypocrite and stormed out of his office anyway to corner the man he needed for the job.

That man was now torn between the instinct to help his trusted colleague and friend and the same inexplicable reluctance that everyone else had shown. "Agent Ressler, you know I can't do that," Aram replied nervously. "This agent, you must have heard at least some of the stories about him. He's classified above top secret. Neither of us have that level of access."

"Cooper does, and I know you use his clearance all of the time. This is extremely important, Aram. For Agent Davidson's sake," he added, hoping that Aram's evident fondness for her would do the trick, because otherwise Ressler would have to choose to either bribe or intimidate the young agent, and he really didn't want to do either.

Aram processed his request thoughtfully. The young man studied his visitor for a long moment, peering at him as if Agent Ressler was just one of his pieces of technology that had without warning started oddly malfunctioning. Ressler and Davidson had debated between themselves if their partner had some intuitions about their continued interactions with the fugitives; sometimes his words or actions had dropped hints to both of them, though Aram had never had followed through with anything else to further their suspicions. His loyalty to the team was beyond question; and times like these Don had to hope his personal loyalty stretched far enough as well.

Aram finally shrugged. He glanced around the war room, assessed the remaining people in the room as too far away to overhear their conversation. But he replied in a lower tone and angled slightly away from the direct view of anyone maybe surreptitiously observing. "Agent Cooper's out of the office for the rest of the day. I'm going to assume he would agree there is sufficient reason for you to search these files and would give his permission if asked?"

Ressler's eyes flickered. "I've got reason. Come on, let's get this done."

"We'll need to use Agent Cooper's computer," Aram stated. He didn't speak again as they climbed the metal staircase to the small office hovering above the main floor. The tech took a seat quickly at his boss's desk and tapped in the first of a number of passwords on the desktop computer. He navigated so quickly through numerous windows that they flowed together in a blur, muttering light off-hand comments on the process as he went. Soon Agent Ressler gave up trying to follow his process. Instead he gazed out between the cheap metal blinds of the office window at the vast empty office space below. The facility had always been much larger than they needed for a staff that had always been numbered in the handfuls, but it and its unusual required attributes had luckily been immediately available on that one chaotic day when the task force had come together. Since Liz and Red's departure they had downsized personnel even farther down to a skeleton crew. He and Elenna both had numerous empty spaces to claim for the own individual territories, but without discussion both had chosen to continue sharing their cramped private office. Now he wondered if when he reported to work on the coming Monday morning he would find out she had staked out a brand new workspace to call her own.

He forced that image out of his head and turned back to the tech expert. "Found anything?"

Aram was already staring at him with his jaw slightly open and his brow wrinkled, honestly bewildered and growing intrigued. "No, this is so crazy! It's just like all the rumors have said, it's like the guy doesn't exist. No Agent Smith matching his description has ever been formally assigned to a case or any department or task force. I can't find that he's ever been issued a weapon or a badge. He's never even sat through one of those stupid required safety seminars we all love so much. I even checked out all of the other intelligence black sites in case he's just been working the dark side from the start. Nothing. I'll try to get into his personnel files but I don't think we'll find much in there, either."

"Maybe he's not one person. Maybe it's just a cover name shared by a number of agents," Ressler suggested.

"You mean like the Dread Pirate Roberts?" Aram asked, and then realized in wonderment that his companion didn't understand the reference. He let this one pass. "I don't think so. Everyone describes him physically using very similar terms. It always seemed to me they were describing the same man, the man Agent Davidson encountered a few days ago."

Aram had kept typing throughout their conversation, pausing briefly to use his boss' spare ID badge to bypass the security alarms that flashed suddenly on the screen. "Oh, my, look at this!" he exclaimed.

Ressler stared at the screen now showing a standard personnel file form. "It's empty."

"Not completely," the tech pointed towards the top of the screen. "The name line is blank, but David Smith is listed under alias. The address lists San Francisco, California, but no street name or number. He told Agent Davidson that he was from the San Francisco office." Aram blinked sharply when the screen went black. "The system just kicked me out. I've never had that happen to me before." He pulled back from the screen to regard his colleague. "I'm not going to find any more information this way, Agent Ressler. I have some friends who maybe could help, but I don't know if it would be a good idea to keep going. He's under a deep cover the likes of which I have never seen before. If we dig too far we might get the wrong people very angry."

Ressler stood up and rubbed his hands. "Find out anything you can, Aram. He has to answer to somebody, somewhere. Someone has to know just what kind of person he is and what he is up to with my partner."

 

 

 

Smith honestly surprised himself by his reply to her unanticipated invitation. "The Smithsonian Museum of Natural History. I can be there in half an hour."

"Okay," she said, taken aback but willing to take up any offers of company at this point.

When she arrived Smith was waiting there as promised, sprawled out on the steps in front of the classic building and basking in the afternoon sunlight. He was dressed casually in jeans and faded t-shirt in sharp contrast to her black work suit. His ball cap was pulled low down to the tops of his pair of sunglasses, but she could already recognize him by his bright welcoming smile.

"What are we doing here?" she asked as soon as she reached his seat. She hovered over him for a minute, slightly unwilling to join him and put her new suit in contact with the dirty public stairs. He solved her dilemma by rising to his feet instead.

"You are going to give me the tour of the meteorite display and tell me all about your favorites," he replied cheerfully. "Then we're going to get some lunch. Sound like a plan?"

"Works for me," she let out the breath she didn't know she had been holding in. "Upstairs to the right."

Security went easily after she discretely flashed her badge to the guards and skipped both the metal detector and pat-downs. She caught Smith's appraising gaze in her direction as he sailed through the contraption with no difficulty, but he said nothing about it to her when they reassembled in the main hall. She waited with him in the short ticket line with her creased faded membership card in hand, making small talk about the museum and previous visits.

They aimed directly for the staircase and the third floor, where they perused the displays in both the geology and gems and minerals halls. Elenna lingered longest over the meteorites, pointing out her favorite pieces and answering his questions without slipping too much into the terminology of the field. Within minutes of their arrival the circles had erased themselves from under her eyes and she was laughing at his jokes and relating stories about some of her own favorite personal finds during hiking and rock climbing expeditions. With astonishment they reached the last of the display tables and realized two hours had flown by while they had explored the collections.

Davidson held off on her own round of questioning until they had finished up light lunches at the Atrium dining hall. "I'm curious how you found out that I'm a secret rockhound," she started out lightly. "I doubt that's described in my personnel file."

"Ask me a hard question, El," he chided in return. "You were a geology major in college before switching to criminal justice. You wrote several papers on meteorite composition and origins. I have to admit, they weren't the most exciting reads."

She was somewhat regretful as her agent instincts started to filter back in to her thoughts, drumming out the innocent scientific curiosity that had replaced them for a happy block of time. "You take your background research very seriously. Yes, once upon a time, I thought I would be the one to find that special space rock that would answer all of humanity's burning questions. What else did you find out?" she asked with some hesitation.

Out of the blue he laughed. "I know that you received a slice of illegally acquired Martian meteorite for Christmas last year from Reddington. He had it buffed and polished and set as a necklace charm, and you wear it several times a week to work."

She blushed with some sheepishness in acknowledgment. She assumed Don had received a somewhat felonious gift as well, but she had never worked up the nerve to ask him. "Your secret is safe with me," Smith assured her with amusement. "But I hope it didn't come from destroying that one meteorite with all of your answers."

She sighed heavily. "No answers from the universe for me. Instead I get to try to save a city from a bunch of rich elitists who want to eventually kill us all."

He remained silent at her abrupt change in topic and mood. After a minute with no response she jumped up from her seat to refill her drink at the soda fountain. When she returned to their table, his relaxed expression from their mineral tour had darkened towards anger. He had picked up his crumpled napkin and was violently twisting it with his fingers. "I told you not to involve yourself in this business."

She ignored this. "Smith, if I ask you some questions, will you give me straight answers?" she demanded.

"I understand that I don't have the best reputation for openness," he acknowledged with a slight drop of his shoulders. "You must realize that I can't disclose most of my intel with you or my sources. But otherwise I promise to answer what I can."

She grimaced at his cautiousness. "I understand you know how to use the word 'classified' in a sentence. So can I. I'm asking whether you'll be truthful with me or not."

His lips thinned slightly at the peevishness that had popped up in her tone. "So Reddington warned you not to trust me. Well, consider the source in that case. You'll have to decide on your own if you believe what I say. What would you like to ask me, Elenna?"

"How long have you known about Asheville?" He searched her expression closely before answering, and recognized the vast importance to her of his answer in terms of furthering her levels of trust.

"I found out about the Alliance four months ago while on a unrelated mission. Ever since my highest priority has been bringing those sons of bitches down." He reached over to clasp the hand nervously resting on her knee. "Somehow the crazy conspiracy people got it right. Damn, I know that's a hard pill to swallow. You okay?" he asked with real concern.

"Yeah," she replied honestly. The visit to the museum had been the break she needed to push all of that disturbing new knowledge to the back rooms of her mind, and let it percolate and sort itself out as her conscious mind focused on happier matters. She felt ready to pick up her burdens again, now that they were split into among smaller, more manageable packages. Whatever the cult meant to do some day could wait, she decided, for now she was going to focus on saving Asheville.

"I know I couldn't see straight for days after I saw those files. Walk away while you still can," he admonished.

She took a gulp of drink and sighed. "I can't. I can't know something like this could be in the works and do nothing to prevent it."

He motioned with his own drink. "That's why I was willing to risk an approach to Reddington. I think if we combine forces we have the chance neither of us would have on our own." He added with some trepidation, "I think there may be one more person out there who could be helpful as well." His intel on this was iffy at best, but Smith always liked to err towards optimism when he could.

"William Price," she agreed immediately, then dashed his hopes. "But he won't help. Red already tried that route."

"Damn," Smith frowned. "Just us, then."

"Just us," she agreed.

He fiddled with the edge of the table, lost in thoughts that from the further downturn in his expression weren't pleasant. Elenna let him have time to come to his conclusion. "I'm not going to convince you to stay out of this, am I? I like to think Reddington tried as well. What was his answer to my message?  Will he work with me?"

"Reddington is willing to talk to you." She jotted down a phone number on a napkin and pushed across the table towards him. "This is his current phone number. He wants you to call him directly. The number will only work for a few more hours, so don't dawdle."

"I'll call in a few minutes. The dance of the burner phones," he muttered with some amusement as he folded up the napkin and shoved it in a back pocket. "I guess he's mastered all of the tricks after twenty years on the run. He's got skills, I'll give him that if nothing else."

He caught her suddenly unsure expression. "If you're still wondering if this is just some diabolical plan to haul his ass in to custody, I can assure you Raymond Reddington isn't worth the waste of my time. My reputation doesn't need the mini-boost that would come from busting him, and the reward is what.. half million? I can easily sell intel for far more than that if I was just looking for a quick buck."

Her smile crept up on just one side of her mouth. "That's the official reward. The latest price I heard on the criminal market was eighteen million for just his head. Can't lie, I've thought about it," she admitted. "Especially when he's going off on one of his long pointless stories and there doesn't seem to be any other means of escape."

He grinned at the lightening of the conversation. "How did a nice girl like you end up on a task force like this?"

She took another sip. "If you think I'm a nice girl than you really haven't met me yet."

"No, I don't think you're a nice girl," he answered as he placed his now-empty glass on the table. "I think you are brilliant and an extremely talented agent, and far too dangerous to play games with. So I will be honest with you, Agent Davidson. I like you very much, and I hope you came to visit me today for reasons other than to discuss your CI. Am I right?"

She jerked her eyes away as she blushed reflexively, then gazed at him shyly with her head still half-turned. "You are not at all what I would have expected of the infamous Agent Smith. But I like you very much too, and not just because you respected my secret love of space rocks."

"We all have secrets, Agent Davidson," he replied solemnly. Then with a mischievous grin. "Are we still on for tonight? I'll get the criminal element finished up early enough. What do you say we catch that new superhero movie and root loudly for the villain? We could also be an awkward old people making out in the back row and embarrassing all the young'uns." He raised one eyebrow in a half-lecherous, half-charming move that elicited a smothered giggle and eye-roll in his companion.  

A sudden flashback hit her with a sharp pang of regret: her conversation in the car with Don. Some of her anger came back as well. "Yes," she declared defiantly. "That sounds like an awesome evening. I'll pick you up at your hotel at six."

He grasped her hand as they exited the restaurant, and pulled her closer into a half-embrace as they ambled down the main hall of the museum, their pace growing slower and slower as the front doors and the end of their afternoon encounter neared. She took it all in, the handsome man at her side, her memories of their visit and their plans for the coming evening, and smiled with some satisfaction that after her awful morning she had landed okay after all.

"Smith..." she started then suddenly paused in consternation. "What is your first name?"

He turned around and smiled, the first one she had received from him that didn't reach his eyes. "David. But no one has called me that for a long, long time. It would sound too strange for me to hear it now."

"Okay, Smith," she accepted. "I just wanted to thank you for this afternoon."

"The pleasure was mine," he assured her. He dropped her hand to wrap his arm around her waist instead. "I intend to have many more enjoyable afternoons with you, Elenna, if you don't mind." She nearly froze in place, continuing to move forward only as a way to cover up her sudden stark realization that she really wouldn't mind that at all.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smith and Reddington meet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope we're all still having fun with this story - I know I am! 
> 
> I love posting day. I've finally got my family trained to leave me alone for these precious few hours on Thursdays, and I swear its the only peace and quiet I ever get. Thank you, awesome readers, for giving me an excuse to take this break from the busy world!!

Smith always liked it when a contact didn't keep him waiting too long. That was the one trait he shared with the criminal, he decided, when he reached the last of the steps leading to the Lincoln Memorial and spotted the man in a suit and fedora studying the sculpture with rapt attention.

Only a couple groups of tourists had ventured out into the muggy depths of the summer afternoon to visit the site. Most just took quick selfies and departed for indoor attractions instead. Without their giggles and family arguments interrupting the silence was a fitting testament to the monument's grace and historical impact. Smith paused for a moment to regard the seated figure with respect before continuing on with his business. He glanced around, nodded amiably at the impassive bodyguard stationed nearby, then made a casual approach to the foot of the statute. For a few minutes he stood within feet of the older man, completely disregarded as he continued his intensive examination of the stonework.

"Nice, isn't it?" Smith finally commented.

Red finally glanced his way. "The finest President this country has ever known. He brought the nation back from the very brink of destruction. His murder was a tragically preventible loss."

"He had signed the act creating the Secret Service the afternoon of his assassination," Smith replied. "For a few years after President Garfield was assassinated Secret Service agents volunteered as part-time presidential guards, until new legislation introduced after the McKinley assassination made this an official duty of their agency."

"You are an educated man, Agent Smith," Red replied with some grudging admiration.

Smith acknowledged the compliment with a shrug. "Home-schooled. I had a lot of time to read. You're here, so I assume you're willing to make some kind of arrangement?"

"That depends on what you're offering," Red answered. "As you can imagine, I was quite surprised when you reached out to me. Frankly, I'm very displeased that you chose Agent Davidson as your means of contact. I never intended to involve either her or Agent Ressler in this messy situation."

"Sorry, but you can be a rather hard man to contact. I've had friends looking for you for years, you know. I had to use the available resources." Smith motioned towards the top of the descending steps facing west. Both men settled themselves into comfortable seats, Red with his legs crossed primly and Smith leaning back on his elbows with his legs sprawled out across the steps.

Smith started the negotiations by pulling off his sunglasses and turning towards his nemesis, "What do you say we lay it all out on the table, so to speak. I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

Red kept his eyes pointed towards the view of the park as he pursed his lips. "Delightfully put, Agent Smith. I will if you will, as long as you understand that the physical proof I maintain will stay safely locked away far out of your reach. You'll have to take me at my word at some points."

"If you can agree my sources stay confidential," Red nodded in confirmation.

Smith sat up, resting his arms on his knees as he turned towards the older man. "Fine, let's start with Asheville. I know the date and place, but not the method of attack."

"Biological weapons," Red answered without hesitation. "They'll contaminate food in several major restaurant chains with bioengineered lethal bacteria to create a mass panic and cause the collapse of several major food corporations whose leaders didn't want to play ball with them."

Smith tapped the tips of his fingers repetitively together in front of his mouth as he mentally reviewed a list. "Where will they get the bacteria? Right off the top of my head, I can think of a dozen players in that market who would have the capacity to provide that kind of merchandise."

Red snorted. "Several of those players are buddies of mine. They've informed me this bacteria was produced by an American bioweapon lab. Please don't insult my intelligence by telling me the American government is not involved in that kind of internationally banned research."

Smith answered with honesty after a minute of hesitation. "I do respect your intelligence, Mr. Reddington. We have three labs, and I have access to all of them. By tomorrow evening I can determine which lab is responsible for providing these new superbugs. What are you going to do?"

"My people will work on tracking the distribution plan for the bacteria," Red replied. "If you need assistance in your questioning of the scientists I know some very good people in that line of work."

"I'm sure you do," Smith replied with a slight scowl. "No, thank you, I can handle this part quite well on my own. If the scientists involved suddenly disappear you will spook the Alliance," he commented lightly.

"One can have an unfortunate disappearance without raising too much suspicion," Red disagreed. "But I intend to leave all of the players in place for the time being. I want to see the full extend of the Alliance's reach before we take any conspicuous actions against them."

"I can agree with you on that. For now they don't know we're together on this, but once we make an open move we lose that advantage. Let's use it while we can." Smith stretched both of his arms above his head. "I will warn you against plotting to someday offer those scientists and their creation on the open market. When this is over, they're over."

Red blinked at the implication. "Are you suggesting those scientists will meet an untimely end, Agent Smith?"

Smith's eyes narrowed as his posture suddenly tightened. "Don't expect me to have much sympathy for those willing to plot against their fellow Americans. I really don't like traitors, Mr. Reddington."

"Point taken," Red replied with a tight smile. "I appreciate your honesty. I am still hopeful that this can in time become a fruitful partnership."

"Please understand this is an extremely limited partnership," Smith advised him sharply. "We will not become friends."

Red's expression slid into his easy ironic smile. "Of course not. We will function together under a temporary arrangement until your goal has been met, then you will simply walk away and disappear into the ether again. I understand that is a common enough situation for you, Agent Smith. At least in your personal arrangements."

Smith rose to his feet without rising to the bait. "I want a way to contact you directly in the future. Agent Davidson does not need to be involved with our business anymore."

"I agree," Red replied. "I told her that myself earlier today but to no avail. Both she and Agent Ressler absolutely insisted on continuing their part in this investigation. Their access to the resources of the Post Office is a valuable asset."

Smith pursed his lips. "I don't trust Agent Ressler. You shouldn't have involved him without discussing this with me first."

"You don't know Agent Ressler. I doubt you'll accept my personal endorsement, but I can assure you his superiors trust him absolutely," Red told him. He stood up as well and approached the other man with his usual disregard of personal space traditions.  "As does Agent Davidson. You should ask Elenna about Donald. I believe the two of you intend to meet up again tonight?"

"That would be our personal business," Smith snapped back.

Red merely offered him his blandest smile then turned back to regard the magnificent sculpture behind him. "I won't keep you, Agent Smith. But," he added over his shoulder as the younger man started to descend the steps. "Elenna is a lovely young woman of whom I've grown rather protective. I would be very upset if she is ... disillusioned in any way."

"Mr. Reddington, you seem to have developed a late-life fondness for young female agents," Smith replied with some fake astonishment.  "How is Elizabeth Keen doing these days? Have the two of you kept in touch?"

"She is quite fine, I assure you," Red replied without any outward sign of rancor. "She sends her regards. It is a shame the two of you will not have the opportunity to meet."

"Quite a shame, I agree," Smith nodded vigorously. "I always like when I can catch up with disgraced former colleagues, you know. Makes my job just that much more rewarding. Have a pleasant evening, Mr. Reddington."

"I will contact you again tomorrow evening, Agent Smith, via the staff at your hotel." Red watched with growing concern as the younger man nearly raced down the steps in his enthusiasm to depart for his evening.

 

 

 

"That is a really good question, Elenna. I have never thought about this before," Smith admitted. She waited patiently as licking up the escaping drips from his ice cream cone gave himself time to ponder the topic. "I guess I would have abandoned the house right after I discovered 'you will die' written in blood on the bathroom mirror."

"I wouldn't have then held a seance, that's for sure," Elenna retorted. "Maybe an exorcism if the Pope was available and willing."

The date was going spectacularly well for a second one. After an enjoyable evening meal at a crowded popular restaurant chain, they had walked across the vast parking lot hand in hand to go catch a movie. Unfortunately all of the showings of the superhero movie they had intended to see had been sold out, so they had to decide on another option. It had taken a few minutes of semi-serious debate and studies of the array of movie posters to unite on their final pick. Both immediately and with some shared eye rolling eliminated both the parodying and dramatic spy films, then conspicuously ignored the end of the world epic. That left a costume drama, angsty romance, and silly teen horror movie as their only possibilities.

The ghost story turned out to be fun with paired with a good-natured audience and their own running whispered commentary on the weak plot line and horrible acting. Afterwards they had decided to visit the popular ice cream shop in the same plaza before returning to the car and choosing how to spend the rest of the evening. All of the shop's tables were packed with customers, and all food products were banned from the inside of her car, so they had leaned back against the front bumper with their double scoop cones and people-watched as they conversed.

"I know its a cliche that people in horror movies are dumb," Elenna continued. "But why are ghosts always mean? Seriously, does everyone become a total poophead when they die?

Smith laughed out loud at the thought. "I guess only the jerks get left behind in our mortal dimension. Imagine you're floating along down the tunnel, bright light ahead, dead relatives beckoning, and all of a sudden some voice booms out 'its back to Earth for you, butthead!'. You'd be pissed, too." She grinned at the image this raised in her mind featuring the demon she knew.

"Speaking of evil spirits... I know we said no work talk, but you have to tell me what you thought of Reddington.  I'm sure the two of you hit it off just fine." She kept her words pitched jokingly, but he was close enough that she could feel his muscles tighten instinctively at the change in topic.

"He's an arrogant prick, isn't he? You wouldn't think a mass-murdering traitor would even try to pull off that moralistic tone." Smith shook his head in wonder. "What on Earth does Elizabeth Keen see in him?"

"I try really hard not to think about that," Elenna answered firmly. "Was the conversation useful at least?"

He leaned sideways until the length of his side was pressed up against hers, with his arm wrapped tightly around her shoulders. "It was useful, yes. But no more work talk," he admonished lightly. She realized he was watching her closely and flushed slightly under his gaze. He reached out his hand to gently brush his fingers down her neck. "Elenna, what do you say we move on to the next stage of the evening? Where would you like to go?"

"I hear your hotel is very nice," she replied after a barely discernible pause.

"It is," he confirmed, and coughed to clear out the sudden huskiness in his voice. "You may finish your ice cream first, of course." She watched him over the rim of her cone, inwardly pleased when she saw him blanche and bite his lip while she licked out the last drops of chocolate. She lowered the cone and his eyes flickered. "Dripped a bit," he explained as he lurched forward to gently lick up the little dot of chocolate on her cheek. Then he shifted his attention towards her mouth and fervently covered it with his own.

"Lets just get out of here," she urged minutes later when they broke apart for heaping breaths. Her chest felt it was going to shatter open from the pounding of her heart.

"Agreed," he replied immediately. He lingered by the passenger door as she fished for her keys in the crowded depths of her purse. Her phone had been stuffed in there, too, instead of its usual spot in her back pocket. She felt the cold plastic slip through her fingertips as a silent chiding. At the start of the movie she had stashed it in there after switching it over to secure mode, when only the two emergency numbers she could never ignore would be able to bypass voicemail and ring: Cooper's line and Jay's Subs. She was aware that numerous texts and voice messages from Don had piled up in her inbox earlier in the day, but he seemed to have given up by dinnertime. She threw her purse on the floor behind the drivers seat as she started up the car.

Smith's eyes never left her as she maneuvered through the weekend traffic back downtown to the hotel. She could sense his presence next to him and it was strongly reassuring despite their relatively short time of acquaintance. He rested just two fingers on her knee, and the warmth seeped straight through the denim of her jeans into her bloodstream. She bypassed the valet and drove directly into the lot for customer parking. She opened her car door to realize Smith had unbuckled his seat belt but had made no other motions to get out of the car. She turned back to him and bit her lip in consternation at the apologetic smile he was now offering.

"In a   few minutes I'm going to be extraordinarily pissed at myself for doing this," he admitted. "But I think that this would be a good time for us to say goodnight. Trust me, El, this is not due to any lack of interest," he declared as her forehead furled in confusion. "But before we move things any further along we should talk about the future. Come morning I'm on an early flight out of town to follow up on a lead Red gave me today. I'll be out of town for a couple of days, and I want you to use that time to think through what I'm about to offer. Agent Davidson," he said finally. "I have a confession to make. I knew all about you long before we met up in that coffee shop."

"Really? How is that?" she tilted her head and waited patiently for his answer.

He had climbed out of her car and come over to lead down next to her open car door window. "Because I'm always on the watch for rising talent in the agency. Last year I tried to transfer you away from the Reddington task force on to one of my best counter-intel teams. Sadly Cooper had already snatched you up before I could push my request through management."

"That is sad," Elenna agreed readily. "I always wanted a counter-intel position." 

"So you would still be open to making that transfer?" he replied carefully. Then he stopped and grinned guiltily. "I know with everything else going on this would a difficult time to make that transition, but we could hold off on the official paperwork until at least after Asheville. Think about it, please, and if you're interested when I return we can talk over the details." 

"I'm definitely interested," she answered emphatically. 

He leaned in and kissed her quickly. "You wouldn't work directly with me," he advised her. "I maintain a very strict policy against any fraternization within a team. As much as I admire your professional skills as an agent, Elenna, I must confess I've become even more personally enthralled by you. I don't want to put pressure, but I'm hoping you accept my offer and come out with me to California."


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liz and Elenna make a trip to Asheville

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!
> 
> The city of Asheville takes a little ribbing in this chapter, but I promise its all done with love. I spent a weekend there in April for the Mother Earth News Homesteading festival and was completely charmed by the place. Not many towns can graciously welcome and efficiently host 16,000 happy veggie farmers! The smoothie shop was one of my favorite parts of the weekend - I so wish I could find where I recorded the name of the place so I can urge you all to visit!

Liz had second and third thoughts about making the call; it was still too ridiculously early on a weekend morning to try to contact anyone. Sunlight hadn't even yet reached the upper windows of the decrepit cheap apartments buildings that comprised Davidson's rundown neighborhood. Dusk and who knows what else still lingered in the alleyways and abandoned bordered-up shops that lined the empty main thoroughfare. Liz once again pondered asking Dembe to drive her back to the pleasant warm coffee shop where she could wait another hour before bothering her friend. But in order to make today's agenda possible they had to start out early, and there mathematically existed a small chance that her former partner was actually a morning person and wouldn't be too offended by the wake-up call. Her most pressing concern had already been assuaged.  The men on protective detail had assured her that Agent Davidson had spent the night alone in her loft, leaving no possibility of an inopportune meet-up with her new companion Liz was determined to avoid.

So she dialed Davidson's number and waited with increasing pessimism through three rings. Just as Liz had given up and was mentally formulating a voice mail message the agent answered sleepily.  "Work or fun?" she mumbled, with a yawn obscuring all of the words after the first.

"Work," Liz admitted. "I know its early, but can I come up?"

"You're here? In my neighborhood?" Elenna exclaimed with some trepidation.

"Yeah, right outside your building. I brought you some Starbucks..." Liz added in a teasing tone.

"Well, I never turn down caffeine and/or sugar. Come on up. Is it just you?"  Liz clambered out of her dark blue Mercedes. She checked the front facade of the building and noted the suddenly brightening of one window on the third floor, followed by the outline of a head looking down. Dembe had exited the driver's seat and was silently calculating how many local thugs were currently pondering making their move on the expensive vehicle or the well-dressed lady under his protection. "Tell Dembe he doesn't have to worry. All of my neighbors prone to thoughts of grand theft auto are currently out of commission, so to speak."

Liz hung up her phone, shoved it in her pocket and slowly approached the building, but not without taking several nervous glances back at Dembe. Raymond had warned her about the place and he hadn't exaggerated. The entry hallway was dark and narrow, with an array of new and ancient odors that she wished she didn't recognize from her time spent investigating crime scenes. The grimy wooden steps creaked, and she worried slightly about the kind of people she might be angering by the unwelcome verbal intrusions. Elenna met her at the open doorway of her upstairs loft and ushered her in quickly, eagerly grasping the promised latte out of her hands as she motioned her into the main space.

After three steps Liz froze in place in wonder with her mouth dropped open. Her mind had flown back to the combat training center, her least favorite memory from her education in Quantico. She had barely passed her certifications for handgun and basic self-defense and had been sort of dreading the upcoming recertification tests when she had so unexpectantly departed from the FBI. Once in a while Raymond and Dembe would both tease her gently about keeping up her defensive skills, but she was reluctant to let Raymond know just how much she disliked that kind of thing, and it was awkward to get so physical with Dembe. The solution to that problem was now staring her in the face. Agent Davidson's private studio was a match for any professional training facility, with all of the same equipment plus a friendly instructor.  "Wow.  I understand now why you live in the hood."

"My neighbors are terrified of me," Elenna agreed with some pride as she leaned back against her punching bag. "It sure keeps the family from unexpectedly dropping by, and deadbeat landlords don't care what you do with the fixtures." She allowed Liz a few minutes to wander around and take in the scene. Then she reaassured her, "Don't worry, everything you see around you is either fake, unsharpened or filled with blanks. I keep all of the really cool stuff under lock and key." With a sudden awareness she peered down at her stained college t-shirt and bulky plaid pajamas pants, then across the practice area towards the kitchen nook where a week's worth of stacked-up dishes stared right back at her. Sheepishly she added, "Sorry about the mess. I wasn't expecting to welcome any guests this morning. So Lizzie, why are you here at the buttcrack of dawn?" she asked as she headed off to the small combination bedroom and bathroom tucked into the far corner.

"We're going to Asheville," Liz answered loudly. She took one more cautious lap around the practice zone, then retreated to the much cozier living area.

"We have a lead?" Elenna yelled back from the bedroom. She rifled through the pile of once-folded laundry in the basket she had been meaning to put away for three days now. She visualized her friend's outfit, then added one of her work jackets over her jeans and camisole combination.

"Raymond has some ideas for us to follow up on. I assume you can get away from the office for another day? Since you weren't in yesterday, I mean." Liz without any conscious thought had risen right back up again from her perch on the sofa and had absent-mindedly begun tidying up the small area.

Elenna deliberated over this as she wrestled her hair back into a messy bun. "I imagine so," she replied finally. Elenna had been working as part of a case for Main Justice that had the benefit of being both magnificently complicated and probably unsolvable. It would be easy enough to claim she needed to be out of town to run down a lead; Cooper would believe her and still not really expect her to return with any actionable results. Worse came to worse, she internally shrugged, she could make Red give her something to take back as an excuse for the time away. "I should call Res and tell him," she stated flatly as she returned to the main area.

Liz caught her hesitation, and her concern increased. "Res knows you're traveling with me today," she replied with as little emotion as she could manage. Elenna caught the remaining heat in her tone and bit her lip. "I asked him to come along as well but he said he had work to finish here in town. We'll be back tonight, so you don't need an overnight bag." Liz checked her phone for any last messages as Davidson did a final sweep of the loft, rechecking appliances and lights before gathering up keys, phone, weapons and purse and announcing she was ready to depart.  

Liz hustled her friend out of the apartment down to the car with the warning that the jet was fueled up and waiting. They drove directly to one of the smaller executive airports dotting a circumference outside the highly controlled airspace of the capital. They were met at the car by one of Red's familiar henchmen and escorted right to the jet waiting patiently on the tarmac. The voice of the pilot wafted back through the open flight deck door as he cycled through his final preflight checklists, interrupting himself long enough to offer a greeting and a warning that they would be departing within minutes.

Elenna took in the expensive leather seats and plush carpeting and tried to not look impressed. They buckled in as the pilot announced they were ready for departure. Elenna had never flown in anything smaller than a commercial jet; her eyes widened at the unexpected steep incline of the take-off. As soon as they reached level flight, the pilot announced they were free to unbuckle, and Liz asked her friend if she would like a drink. El waved the half-finished latte she was still nursing as an answer, so Liz pour herself some juice at the tiny bar. "Raymond suspects that the Alliance will use the same methods as last year when they tried to bring the radioactive material to the US."

"You mean using small terrorist groups to cover their tracks," Agent Davidson replied sharply. "So who would they approach in Asheville? Oh, that's one of those crunchy little hippie towns, isn't it?" she answered her own question. 'Environmental groups, remnants of General Ludd..."

Liz nodded. "You'd be surprised how many survivalist groups operate outside of the city. But Raymond's people have been able to track down some members of a fringe animal rights group that often stages protests at the local chain restaurants."

"That sounds just like the right kind of people to take the blame for mass food poisoning," Davidson agreed.

"The Alliance reps may just sell it to them as a minor illness they could use to discredit the company," Liz elaborated their current theory. "By the time they realize the truth the damage will already be done."

"Do we know where they'll get the biological agents?" Davidson inquired. Liz leaned back in her seat with her glass raised as if she were thinking about taking a sip, in an unconscious imitation of her future husband. She had wondered how much more or less Smith had shared with Elenna compared to his statements to Raymond. "Agent Smith informed Raymond that one of three American bioweapon research labs would be the supplier. That's where he's going today, El. To visit the sites of highly illegal, internationally banned research carried on within American borders under direct government supervision. He knew everything about these places already; names, projects..."

Elenna shrugged. "He can get himself into tight places, that's for sure. I hope he finds out something useful."

Liz turned away for a minute to recalibrate her approach. "Last night...did he tell you where he was going today?"

"No. We didn't talk work, Liz," Elenna heaved a sigh when she recognized where this was leading. "Go ahead, say what you're going to say, Lizzie. May as well get this done and over."

"El, what are you doing?" Liz demanded. She switched to the seat just next to her friend and leaned towards her over the armrest. "What about Don?"

"What about him?" Elenna replied, and shocked both of them by the tired callousness that had snuck itself into her voice. She took a minute to pull her voice back under firmer control. When she spoke again it was with resigned passivity. "We had a fight, and things just kind of fell apart after that."

"He called me," Liz admonished. "Last night. He said you wouldn't return his calls. El, he's a mess. He doesn't understand what happened or even why you were so upset with him yesterday. Why won't you talk to him?"

Elenna stared at the lid of her coffee cup. "I'm sorry, I truly am. But I guess I've finally realized things aren't going to go anywhere meaningful with Res. I don't want to be just his cheap weekend fling, and I don't see anything else ever developing."

Liz straightened up in her seat with her arms crossed over her chest. "And you're thinking you can have something meaningful with Agent Smith?"

"I don't know yet," Elenna answered softly, "but I think its possible."

Liz had to jump up from her seat and walk away for a minute to contain her sudden burst of righteous anger. Raymond had left one of his ties behind on his favorite seat after their last flight. She snatched it up and clenched it in her hand, feeling comfort in this small silky reminder of his presence. "El, you can't be serious. Do you know anything about this man at all?"

"I know his badge says 'special agent' just like mine," Elenna responded. "I know he's brilliant, funny, loyal..."

"Loyal? He would lock Raymond away to rot in some black site somewhere without a second thought," Liz exclaimed bitterly. "Me too."

Elenna shook her head with a bitter laugh. "Liz, you and Reddington are two of most wanted criminals in the world. Why would it surprise you that a federal agent would think that way? He promised me that he'll let you both go free as long as he feels you've cooperated fully on this investigation. Essentially he's making you the same deal Red had with the Post Office, and you never distrusted Cooper."

"Agent Cooper has always been honest and open in his dealings with Raymond," Liz argued. "Smith is using you, El. That's what he does. He manipulates people to get what he wants, especially women. You just can't see it."

"You're wrong!" Elenna exclaimed automatically.

"And how would you know that?" Liz responded just as quickly. "You don't know who he is. No one does, he's just layer after layer of cover story no one has ever completely pealed back to find a real man underneath."

Elenna glared at her friend, openly and with the same distance and coldness that she had worn towards Liz those first few days on the task force when she hadn't been too sure of her willingness to trust the informant's favorite. "I know Smith's not a murderer and I know he's never sold out his country for easy money."

Liz winced as if the slap had been physical, and her friend immediately approached her with repentance but was immediately rebuffed. "I'm so sorry, Liz, I shouldn't have said that," Elenna declared towards her back.

"Its fine. I get your point," Liz replied under a veneer of composure. She turned back around with her arms wrapped tightly around herself.  "I'm not going to deny Raymond has a past full of mistakes he's trying to make amends for.  But Agent Smith, what does he have planned for us in the future, after Asheville?"

Elenna heaved a deep sigh. "Let's not do this now," she suggested with feeling. She finally convinced Liz to let her touch her arm in friendship. "I don't want to fight with you, Lizzie. Can't we just table this discussion? Talk to me about what is going to happen in Asheville today."

Liz squared her shoulders and forced herself to switch perspectives back towards professional. She flipped open her laptop case and pulled up the dossier Dembe had set up for her. Red's investigators had identified the group that was most likely to be approached by the Alliance for this kind of scheme. It had been launched by an ex-PETA supporter who had been tossed out of the group for being too radical. Ressler had done his share for the investigation by pulling up and sending copies of the FBI files on the group. While Liz chatted with him on the satellite phone Elenna ignored them to focus on reading through the reports.

"I hope you weren't hoping to pass us off as a couple of new recruits," Elenna declared after Liz had hung up. "No one in the leadership ranks is over twenty-two years old. We're going look like a couple of grandmas in that crowd."

"Already tossed that idea. No, we're a couple of reporters from Sisters in Freedom magazine," Elenna began to nod in admiration when she heard the magazine's name. "The leadership fell over themselves to set up interviews today. They won't miss a chance to finagle that level of publicity."

"Yes, Sisters in Freedom," Davidson sighed with a dose of derision. "Aren't they the ones who referred to Bernie Sanders as a right wing corporate shill? The ones with that editorial that said animals should have the right to vote? My mom has kept up  a subscription for years. She keeps sending me email links to their crappy articles. Oh..." she beamed like she suddenly realized it was Christmas morning. "He paid them off, didn't he?"

Liz's grin was slightly sardonic as she commented, "Raymond's been their biggest donor for years, under his real name no less.  All those baseless articles hinting about corruption everywhere but they don't seem to mind taking his money. He says he finds them delightfully entertaining and often useful. Press cards, employment paperwork, we have it all in here," she tapped on her computer bag with pride.

The flight landed within the next hour. The regional airport was small but efficient. Within a reasonable amount of time they had flipped coins for driver's seat and were on the highway towards the city. Both were loath to interfere again into each other's comfort spaces, so they avoided further mentions of any of the controversial men in their lives. They kept to observations on the gorgeous local scenery, then switched their attention towards navigating the downtown area where they were meeting their contact.

Liz found a parking space in a public lot near the center of the bustling city. "Busy place," she commented on the thick crowds streaming up and down the sidewalks. Many businesses were taking advantage of the warm summer day and had set up tables or clothes racks outside their front doors that added to the chaos. Nearly every street corner had a guitarist or drummer playing for spare change. The tiny green spaces were filled with couples picnicing with their take-out food or just stretched out in the soft grass.

"Hippie tourists," Elenna surmised. "In town to stock up on their organic patchouli and hemp sandals." She yanked her phone out of her back pocket. "Do you have an address?" she asked when ready to type.

"It's a smoothie shop," Liz was searching through her bag for her notepad and the rest of the address she knew was in her handwritten notes. She sometimes really missed her old iPhone, and online life in general. She hadn't logged on to Amazon, or Netflix, or any of her other previous favorite sites since the departure.

"Wow, that really narrows down the options.  I'll bet it's next to a vegan restaurant," Elenna joked. "Near the shop selling healing crystals."

"It is a vegan smoothie shop," Liz shared with some relish at her friend's resulting expression of dismay. She held up the discovered notepad with triumph and read off the address.

"Just two blocks north," Elenna related from her screen. "We'll be there in plenty of time to pick up some yummy kale juice."

The smoothie shop was a charming little place nestled in the corner of the main floor of a immaculately renovated historic building. It was packed but the people were friendly and accommodating, and they agreed their blueberry smoothies were actually very delicious. From their seat by the window they could watch the crowds stream by. The mix was eclectic; there were the expected young dudes with dirty blond dreadlocks, but there were also young families pushing strollers and older couples and even a pair of men in work suits who had slipped out of their offices to enjoy the perfect summer weather.

Their interviewee was a lively young woman with hipster glasses and trendy clothes, whose voice would raise uncontrollably in eagerness as she relayed their plans to unleash leaflets and new slogans on the unaware masses and raise their consciousnesses about the evils of fast food restaurants. Liz had to hide her sighs several times behind her hand. She honestly agreed with the girl on a majority of their points, but the naivety of their plans were exasperating. She couldn't risk a glance towards Agent Davidson; her rigid body language alone was enough to warn her that she was barely biting back her responses and keeping in character.

By the end of the afternoon they had finished up their session and several flavors of smoothie each. They wished the nice guy at the counter a pleasant evening and strolled off for their rental car. "Are we heading back to DC tonight?" El asked tiredly.

"I'll get the jet fired up and ready to go," Liz replied with just as much fatigue weighing down her voice. She called up the pilot and advised him they were ready to get out of town. "This was a waste of jet fuel. There is no way the Alliance would trust someone of their... innocence to collaborate in this kind of situation."

"Bless their hearts, I wouldn't expect them to spell all the words right in their little manifestos," Elenna replied. "But I wish them the best of luck in ridding the world of chemical-laiden potato-ish products. What's Plan B?"

The crowds had thinned considerably since they had sat down for their interviews. Intent on their conversations and now reliant on always having Red's men on hand for their protection, neither had noticed they were now being followed by a policeman since the last intersection they crossed. He barked out a command for them to halt and they froze in place.

"Hands up!" he ordered as he approached from behind. This attracted great attention among the remaining tourists, who formed a large circle some distance from the three of them to watch the scene with giddy interest. More than a couple were videotaping the scene with their phones.

"Why are we being detained?" Liz asked quite politely. She had been drilled on what to do if detained by police. The priorities were to be polite, cooperative, and get a hold of Mr. Vance, Red's incredibly devious American lawyer, as soon as possible. Her ID was good enough to run through all the usual federal databases; she only had to worry if somehow despite the new hairstyle and false color contacts anyone recognized her from the wanted posters.

"You are under arrest," he replied with an irritated tone, as if she had been hounding him with a barrage of unreasonable questions.

"Why?" she tried again. She glanced back to Elenna. Raymond's men couldn't disrupt a public arrest; that would attract far too much attention. They were on their own.

"Don't cause yourself more problems by arguing." Another officer had approached from seemingly out of nowhere. He stepped right behind them and brusquely ordered Elenna to put her hands behind her back. Davidson used the proximity to whisper towards the officer, "I'm an FBI agent on undercover duty. I am going to slowly reach into my pocket and bring out my badge."

"No you're not," he declared. To her bewilderment he yanked her own arms backwards into his tight grip. "You're coming with me." She complied because she had to; the crowds were watching closely and she had to keep this as simple and uninteresting as possible. She prayed fervently that none of the observers would recognize Liz as the accomplice of the infamous escaped criminal mastermind still often featured on TV.

"Is it that you don't believe I'm a fed or do you just not care?" she snapped as she found herself pulled not towards the road but back towards a narrow alley they had crossed just a few moments ago. Liz was in the same predicament just feet away. They entered the alley and disappeared out of the view of the crowds behind them, who dispersed quickly now that the entertainment was over.

Both women assumed that they were heading towards a back entrance to the local precinct, or the officers' patrol cars were nearby. But the alley dead-ended in a chain fence halfway through the block, and there were no doors leading into the buildings on either side. "These aren't real cops," Liz hissed. She managed to slam her heel into her escort's knee and distract him long enough to wriggle free out of his grasp. Elenna twisted free of her captor as well and spun around. Thankfully he hadn't yet searched her for weapons and her service pistol had been hidden under her jacket.

"What do want with us?" she demanded with her pistol centered on the man's chest.

He grunted with surprise as he lifted his hands towards the sky. "I guess you really are a fed. Didn't expect that." Then he ignored her and turned to Liz. "You're Reddington's girl, aren't you? We have a message for you to deliver. Tell him if he doesn't back out of our business, all deals are off. You got that?"

"You really a cop?" Elenna continued pointing her weapon in warning as she asked Liz to pat both men down in turn for ID. Liz's first move was to take their weapons from their belts, filing away for later observation that neither had pulled their weapons against Davidson or herself. Than she patted their pockets and found badges on both. "Both street cops with the local PD," she announced to her friend.

"Who's sending the message?" Davidson demanded. "Do you even know who you signed up with and what they're planning?"

"I picked the winning team, honey," he replied with a arrogant grin. "Do yourself a big favor, get out of here and forget you ever visited."

"Or maybe instead I shoot you in the head," Elenna replied with some enthusiam at the thought. "I suggest you give me a very good reason not to because I'm sure leaning that way. I want to know exactly what you're planning."

"You shoot me, you'll bring half the force running in here. Then the Attorney General himself wouldn't be able to get you off the murder charges you'll face. Time to take a walk, pretty lady." He turned to Liz. "Get your friend out of here before Reddington's deal is somehow forgotten in all of the excitement."

"Come on," Liz said dully to her friend. Elenna slowly lowered her weapon and retreated with one last insult hurled back at the dirty cop.

The drive back to the airport was silent as both mulled over their experience. By the time they boarded the plane they had regressed towards meaningless conversation about flight times and contacting everyone back in D.C. Liz thought Davidson was going to drop the matter entirely, but as the plane was starting its descent into the city she spoke into the dim light of the cabin. "What deal was he talking about, Liz?" she said. "Because I thought he promised you he had told us everything."

"I don't know," Liz admitted. "But I'm going to find out tonight."


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ressler learns more about Agent Smith and new plans are formulated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be taking a little hiatus next week... I'll be over in Orlando for GeekyCon. If anyone of you will be visiting as well, come find me! I'll be the one with the recently faked red hair in the blue vintage '90s Scully suit, accompanied by a teenage Rose Tyler.
> 
> See you in two weeks!!

Ressler had somehow managed to put all of the messy personal stuff temporarily behind him and finally settle into the calming drudgery of scut work. He had spent the last hour alone at his desk pouring over transcripts from the thankfully mundane wiretaps from the drug ring case he had lucked into out of the new batch of Main Justice overloads they'd been sent. Most of the conversations he had perused so far had ranged in topics from reviews of the local strip clubs to sports bets to a bizarre rant by the dealer on one of the candidates who had recently announced he was running for President. Finding himself nodding in agreement with a meth dealer didn't put Ressler in any better mood, but it was at least a mood that didn't involve fruitless ruminating on his wayward partner. Liz promised she would try to find out what was going on with El, and there was nothing else he could do that day to solve that problem, he thought grimly. Until Aram appeared in his doorway with an strangely exuberant attitude.

"Hey, Agent Ressler," he greeted with a wide false smile. "What do you say we go get some lunch?"

"Its ten o'clock," Res declared in confusion. Then he noticed the younger man's eyes had gone wide and were shifting in the direction of Cooper's office. "But I could use a coffee," the experienced agent amended.

Aram fairly danced around the office as Ressler gathered up his things. "I'll drive!" he announced as if he had won first prize. Ressler said nothing else until they were alone in the big shielded elevator.

"What the..." Res started.

"Cooper's been on the phone all day with the Attorney General," Aram blurted out in his delight. "Something big is going down soon. I think it involves Mr. Reddington."

"Oh," Ressler answered stoically. "New lead, I guess. That will at least get us off these Main Justice cases." He figured that was the main cause for the younger agent's sudden mania. As one of the few computer geniuses now available for investigative cases, Aram had by far been the most swamped by the sudden tsunami of workload of these last few weeks. Most of his meals were take-out brought back to the office by one of his fellow agents; once Mrs. Cooper took pity and dropped off something home-cooked for him. It had stopped being noticeable when he wore the same clothes for two days in a row because he couldn't manage an hour away for the round trip to his apartment.

"Well, I have other news for you..." the tech added. "I've arranged a meeting for us with my buddies I told you about. They want to talk to you about Agent Smith."

"That's good," Ressler declared. Though it actually wasn't; he didn't want to dredge those feelings up again today. But curiosity overcame his reluctance and he agreed to climb into Aram's tiny little Mini Cooper, who he learned through Aram's stream of chatter along the way was affectionately referred to by its owner as Mini Harold.

Ressler had met informants in a number of strange locations in his time, but he had never entered a comic book shop in his life before today. This one was located in a struggling strip mall in one of the commercial zones that had spread like cancer along the Beltway. The confused stares he received as he reluctantly crossed the threshold were quickly amended to become warm greetings towards his young partner when he followed close behind with a friendly shoutout to the occupants. They all had enthusiastic bits of news and gossip to share with Aram which were answered in a way they seemed to appreciate, but made absolutely no sense to Agent Ressler. "Sorry," Aram declared with some muted embarrassment. "Fandom talk. I guess you're not so big on the Avengers."

"That's a movie, right?" Ressler asked in reply. They passed straight through the rows of comic book racks and packaged toys of the main shop floor past a locked counter with some treasured items reverently arranged for viewing. Then they crossed through a doorway blocked by one of those annoying bead curtains into a smaller chamber, filled with a number of card tables and cheap folding metal chairs. Three guys were tightly gathered around one of the tables and engaged in an argument that just hovered on the friendly side of vehement.

"Hey buddy!!" one of the men interrupted the debate and called out towards Aram with unexpected enthusiasm. "Is this him? Captain America?"

"What?" Ressler tried to ask but Aram shook his head and leaned in to whisper, "Go with it. I can't use your real name with these guys." Ressler remembered suddenly that Elenna had also assigned aliases for him and the others on the task force to use when chatting with her brother. Apparently everyone else on the team had done the same thing in order to share some conversations about the lighter side of work with their families and friends.

"This is Captain America," Aram agreed loudly. He pointed to each of the three men in turn as he called out names for Ressler's sake. "Mickey Smith, Iago Jones, and of course Jack Harkness, collectively known in the hacker community as Torchwood."

"Pleased to meet you," Mickey Smith replied while offering his hand. Ressler approached and shook hands politely with each man in turn. Mickey offered him a seat at the table and told him to help himself to some refreshments. Ressler followed his finger to the long metal table backed up against the wall, that was heaving with bags of every flavor of Doritos available on the market and a number of brands and flavors of energy drinks.

Meanwhile Jack had pulled Aram aside and was sternly interrogating him. "Hey, Iron Man," he accused. "You said Pepper Potts was going to be here tonight. I'm very disappointed in you, bro. You promised me a hot chick."

"She had to go out of town today on assignment today," Aram replied quickly as Ressler tried to figure out just who the hell they were talking about. Then it came to him and he flushed slightly with resentment. Aram shrank slightly under his sudden disapproval. He covered this by pulling over another folding chair so all of them could gather around the same table.

"Anyway, let's get down to business," the tech suggested brightly. To Ressler he explained, "These guys are three of the best white hat hackers working with the government today. They test the security systems currently in place and suggest improvements."

"We've wormed our way into every system out there, from the White House down to the Department of Education." Mickey bragged.

"Every network but mine," Aram corrected with some pride.

"One day we'll find out just what secrets Iron Man is hiding," Mickey assured him. Then he switched gears and turned towards their guest. "I hear you're interested in a particular piece of government property," he said to Ressler. "Agent David Smith. He is one fascinating little ducky."

"What do you know about him?" Ressler challenged.

Mickey whistled in reply. "More than anyone else, which is still precious little. Over the last half-dozen years the guy has formed his own frigging free-range FBI division. You can think of him as an auditor of sorts. He spends most of his time sniffing out the dirty bits of Uncle Sam: the politicians on the take and the foreign snoops and the crooked contractors. His success rate is astounding so they let him run his own show without interference from above. His security clearance isn't just high, it's omniscient. No government facility can deny him access; hell, he can go over the the National Archives and make a paper airplane out of the Declaration if he so desires. Whatever funky hijinks you two are involved in, Agent Smith can stroll right in through your front door anytime he feels the urge and you can't stop him."

Ressler asked sharply. "Can he be trusted?"

"Absolutely," Iago cut in with certainty. "Total Boy Scout. You can always trust Agent Smith to do what he thinks is moral, right and proper. But the downside is you really don't want to find yourself on his shit list. If he decides you're naughty, your next stop is a supermax if he's feeling lenient. Otherwise its a box in some black site somewhere. Lots of dirty birds have just disappeared into thin air without benefit of the judicial system."

"Have you met him in person?" Jack inquired.

"No. My friend has," Ressler admitted.

"Oh," the Torchwood boys answered in unison with sudden empathy.

"Pepper, I presume? Or Romanov?" Ressler had to turn to Aram with help on that one. He muttered "Liz" low enough that only the older agent could hear. "The chicks dig him." Iago's jealousy slipped through on that final comment.

Ressler had heard enough. He stood up and motioned to Aram that it was time to depart. "Good luck with whatever you're doing!" Mickey called after them. "Iron Man, I'll see you on the inside of your network one of these days."

Agent Ressler said nothing as they reversed the entry process until they had reached the security of Mini Harold. Aram was the first to speak. "I realize this doesn't involve any Post Office cases, Agent Ressler, so I know it's not really my business. But maybe I should talk to Agent Davidson about him when she comes in again."

"No, Aram, she's an adult. She makes her own choices." Ressler replied dully. 

 

 

Liz waited to call Raymond until they had deplaned and she could have some kind of privacy for the conversation and some abatement of her roaring temper. There was a long pause as Dembe handed over the phone; his voice when he answered was loving and pleased causing her to choke back some more of her anger. But not all.

"What deal do you still have with the Alliance?" she demanded immediately.

"Sweetheart, what happened?" he dodged her question just as she had expected he would. Damn, these cases take him right back to the good old days, Liz thought bitterly.

She answered, "A couple of cops stopped us with a warning that if you didn't abandon this investigation all deals would be off. What did he mean by that, Raymond?"

Red let out a long slow exhale. "Agent Davidson is still with you?" Elenna had taken advantage of the nearly empty lounge to collapse wearily across a padded bench. Liz was facing out of the glass wall at the panoramic view of the landing strip. Dusk had just arrived according to the sudden brightening of the night landing lights. She confirmed her companion was still nearby. "Stay with her, my dearest. Agent Smith has requested that all of us attend an emergency meeting this evening. He claims to have new and vital information we will need to discuss immediately. Your driver will know the location."

"And you don't think this a setup?" Her tone caught Elenna's attention though she couldn't quite make out the words.

"I have been assured he has submitted to an agreement in which neither of us are at risk of detainment so long as we contribute to this project." Smith had grudgingly admitted his side deal with Elenna when the two men had spoken an hour previously. "My men will be close at hand in case of any cheap tricks on his part."

Liz decided to override her instincts and yet again put her trust in his judgment. She ended the conversation without her usual loving sign-off and approached her friend.

"Something happened," Elenna inferred immediately from her expression. She brushed off her jeans and squared her shoulders.

"We're meeting. All of us," Liz declared with an air of resignation. Elenna caught her intonation and said nothing in reply.

They were both exhausted from the long flights and the events of the day; the luxurious car was especially appreciated for the long ride. Both thought longingly of a nice dinner in a quiet place but the driver had been informed to pick up something fast along the way and drive them directly to the assembly location.

When they pulled into the busy parking lot, both of them frowned with the same fatigued exasperation. It was a high school that was obviously hosting some kind of event by the nearly filled parking lot. The driver cut through the crowds towards to the back of the lot and the rear of the sprawling complex. Here there were a lot fewer visitors milling around, but enough that they could sort of blend in in any observer didn't squint too hard. The crowds weren't the teenagers they had imagined to be the natural attendees, but were mostly young adults with a healthy mix of more mature men and women mixed in as well. The driver had given them a room number but not directions so they wavered in the crowds for a minute, until Liz recognized one of her favorite guards trying to blend in as well, who was able to point them in the right direction.

"Ah, going back to high school. Everyone's worst nightmare," Elenna declared looking around with a mix of derision and nostalgia at the corridor lined with lockers and vibrant hand-drawn posters advertising what had months ago been the upcoming spring fling dance. "Interesting location choice."

Heavy footsteps came up behind them and they turned quickly to greet another arriving team member. "What the hell are we doing here?" Agent Ressler demanded crossly. "There's a teacher recruitment fair going on in the gymnasium." He avoided Elenna's sudden frozen demeanor to focus directly on Liz's sympathetic expression instead. In reply Elenna sped up her steps to soon leave the two of them drifting behind. They used the sudden privacy for a few whispered words, which made her ears burn slightly but thankfully none of the text of their conversation reached her. She arrived at the correct classroom first and popped her head in for the incongruous sight of Reddington leaning back in the only comfortable chair in the room behind the teacher's desk.

"My head is now chock full of John Hughes movie references,' she declared with some good humor. "What is this, Saturday detention? I bet you had more than your fair share of those."

His eyes crinkled a little bit in the corners as he smiled back. "Certainly not. I was the perfect student. Naval Academy, remember? I was valedictorian of my graduating class."

"Hello, Elenna." She traced the welcome voice behind her to the far side of the room. Smith was seated on the top of one of the student desks with one leg crossed over the other and looking entirely at home. She smiled impetuously than wrenched her attention away from the responding brightening of his eyes. From the decorations still hanging on the walls and the textbooks piled up in a series of neat stacks on the counter running the length of the wall, she determined this was an American history classroom. The front board was still covered with drawings and scribbled messages left behind by students during the final day of classes the previous month. Red was investigating those with sudden interest.

All of the desks had been precisely arranged in a large circle, so that no one could hide back from the teacher's attention during lectures. She chose one of the desks adjoining his to lean against with her arms crossed and wait for the action to begin.

Smith said pleasantly, "I see we've all arrived." He nodded at the two strangers who had just snuck in as if the tardy bell had rung and detentions were forthcoming. "I guess introductions aren't really needed but would be the polite thing to do. I'm Agent Smith." When neither spoke in return he added with the same friendliness, "I'm assuming this is Elizabeth Keen and Agent Ressler. Am I right, El?"

"Yes,' she replied after an awkward glance towards the newcomers. "Why are we in a busy high school, Smith? We don't exactly blend in."

"You do tonight with the recruitment fair. If anyone asks you're here researching the possibilities of an exciting new career in public education. We needed somewhere secure to meet on the spur of the moment and the Department of Ed owes me a number of favors."

"I'm sure they do," Red replied tightly. "Why are we here, Agent Smith?"

"What happened in Asheville?" Smith asked instead. His voice was still light and conversational but his gaze sharply focused on Elenna's with boss-like expectation.

Elenna glanced towards Liz and shrugged. "I screwed up. I didn't even realize they were on us until they had us assuming the position."

"You okay?" he asked with some concern.

"We're fine. If I couldn't handle a dirty cop or two I would have chosen the wrong career, am I right?" she replied cheerfully. His eyes stayed locked on her in a intense manner that caused everyone else to clumsily turn away.

"They never pulled their weapons on us," Liz interjected into the conversation. She faced directly towards Raymond with her chin jutted out in a way that rapidly drained the remnants of his cheerful mood.

"And that bothers me a lot," Smith answered her instead. "But we're here because we need to talk about what else happened today." He switched positions to lean forward with his hands clasped in front of him. "When I arrived at the lab this afternoon I learned that it had been abruptly cleaned out and abandoned at some point during the previous evening. The entire staff from secretaries to janitors had disappeared into thin air as well."

"They know we're on them," Davidson surmised. "Shit. How?"

"Who knew you were traveling, Agent Smith?" Reddington asked calmly.

"Some members of my staff," he replied with just as much equanimity despite the implied insult. "My employees are leakproof, Mr. Reddington. If they weren't then there's a lot more interesting tidbits they would have already unleashed on to the world. You and I spoke about my plans yesterday. Who did you tell?" He glanced idly towards Ressler. Red followed his eyes towards the agent, who glared back with indignation.

"If we don't trust each other than we don't have much of a partnership," Red stated blandly. "My house is clean as well. What about the families of the researchers? Have any of them disappeared?"

Smith wrenched his lips in a half frown. "My staff wasn't able to contact the spouses of the lead scientist and the lab manager. I assume they were taken along with the staff."

"That's expected within Alliance operations," Red explained for the sake of the others. "They often offer sanctuary for the families of their highest placed contractors as part of their payment package. They've moved on to the next stage of their plan already, it seems." He paused, glanced to Liz who was still nursing her feelings about the secret deal. He tilted his head to regard Smith again. "Obviously the Alliance has realized that I've taken an active interest in disrupting their plot. Perhaps we don't need to operate so stealthily now that we've been detected. Maybe its time to track down the material and the research team and send our own clear message back to the leadership."

"If we take that kind of action this will become open warfare," Smith retorted. "Are you ready for that?"

Red popped out of his chair to come around the desk and closer to the other man. Both were now ignoring the other participants in the room, who were avidly following the debate from the sidelines without any complaint about being excluded. "I understand you prefer lurking in the shadows. I will do whatever it takes to protect that city, Agent Smith."

Smith allowed the criminal to approach him closely, privately wishing there was some way he could wipe that damned arrogant smirk off the man's face without causing further drama. "There are only so many places where biological weapons can be stored safely.  I'll track the government facilities if you can check on the criminal ones. We'll make a final decision on the next move after we find them," Smith offered.

Red turned away to gaze out the classroom window as he pondered the proposal. After a few minutes he abruptly spun around and assented to the change in plans. He could feel Lizzie trying to catch his attention but for now he kept his focus on the younger man. Smith nodded absently as if he had already assumed agreement was obvious and expected. "This will take a few days. El, I want you to go along with me," he said to the lady next to him.

"No, she will not," Ressler interjected loudly to everyone's surprise. Silence reigned as she finally turned to meet his eyes directly for the first time in days. He knew surprise would only overcome her loud indignation for only a few more minutes so he immediately added with authority, "Cooper was asking for you this morning. He's getting suspicious, Davidson. I can't keep covering up your disappearances," he admonished. He hoped for some small hint of reconciliation but instead her gaze fell away quickly away from him towards the floor and he swallowed deeply in defeat.

Davidson bit her tongue lightly as her arguments withered away in the face of his logic, then turned back towards Smith and quietly explained that she would not be able to travel with him. "That will change soon, I promise," he muttered. It was intended just for her ears, but Red heard him clearly as well and flinched sharply as he realized the meaning. Elenna simply turned away when he responded with a disapproving shake of his head.

"There is one other item up for discussion," Smith declared to the room. He smiled suddenly with a flash of bemusement at what he knew all of them would find to be a very unexpected bargain. "Mr. Reddington, I've already finished the negotiations. I can guarantee that you would both be granted full immunity if you and Ms. Keen agree to again serve as adjunct informants for the Post Office."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never imagined I ever could mix Avengers, Blacklist, Doctor Who, X-Files and Elenna all in the same paragraphs!
> 
> My favorite part was linking Liz to a character named Romanov. I am nearly 95% sure that in the show storyline, Liz is the last living descendent of the Russian royal family through her father. The explanation of why this theory works is complicated, so I won't try it here, but within its context a lot of weird things (um.. Tom Keen) can make sense.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red is confronted by by his past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back! :) GeekyCon was a good time. I loved the cosplay even if I'm too %&^@ old to recognize many of the fandoms. Ugh, at one of the panels the members were asked to name their favorite show to binge - one of the guys said X-Files and I swear only the two of us out of the hundreds in the room knew what he was talking about. I also learned the term 'fridge' - when a new character is introduced just so they can die horribly and gain sympathy for a main character. I'm getting a t-shirt saying 'Fridge Tom Keen'.

"Raymond, we need to talk."  Red lifted his eyes from his tattered paperback with the relieved air of the condemned man receiving a message from the governor.

He had noted the abrupt change in Lizzie's demeanor as soon as they had departed from the conference with Agent Smith and their companions. She had been quiet and withdrawn the entire ride back to the safe house. Red had insisted to himself that is was only fatigue that caused her to keep her eyes closed and turned away from his side of the car. But the evidence was stacked against him; a several inch chasm had reopened between his thigh and hers reminiscent of the bad old days when angry was her usual state of mind.

So much of their communication had always been relayed through touch instead of words. From the very beginning he had been arrogant with his physical invasions of her personal space, with quick contacts that were barely tolerated but yet were never openly rejected. She had then often been cold to him and sometimes even cruel, except for those times she had fallen into deepest despair, when her then-husband was yet again breaking her heart. Then she would appear on his doorstep, contrite and seeking solace in his company. He would hold her hand or offer a benevolent shoulder to cry on while silently wondering why she always chose to come to him over the other agents and friends both knew would have been much more appropriate choices. Red had treasured those precious few moments anyway, despite the heartbreak he knew would follow when she would inevitably and without a thought of his tattered feelings simply walk away again. Red had quietly nurtured his first glimmer of hope the first time she had hesitantly let her fingers rest on his arm the whole ride home from a tense 'lister stand-off, pretending as if her hands had plotted this all on their own without her knowledge or permission. From that point forward it had been a gentle but unavoidable slope sliding down towards that grand moment when they had burned their world down to run away together.

But tonight, he mused as he faced out his own window, somehow time had jumped back a few years to the top of that slope. He would have been a fool if he didn't know why, but he would be a bigger fool if he tried to defend himself now that she was in this state. So he allowed his mind to wander over the other dilemmas that had surfaced today, and let himself believe that Lizzie's fury was only temporary and he would be able to talk himself out of it.

It had taken several more hours than he had optimistically planned. At her command he reached for the faded old ribbon he used for a bookmark and set the novel aside. Meanwhile she had towered over him with arms buttressed across her chest as if to forcibly hold back the speech aching to come bursting out the moment she captured his full attention.

"Yes, we do have matters to discuss, sweetheart," he replied calmly. "Why don't we relocate outside to the balcony? The stars are lovely tonight and the temperature has finally dropped down to bearable, I believe." She agreed to this suggestion when he added an offer to swing by the kitchen and pour her a glass of her favorite vintage.

Out of their regular rotation of residences, this safe house presented the most logistical challenges; it was located several hours outside the city, and reaching it required traveling a dirt road that after only an hour of light rain stood a fifty/fifty shot of being passible. But the house was surrounded on all sides by undisturbed forest or crystal clear lake, and featured a multi-tiered deck with stunning views of the local scenery by day and pitch black nights perfect for star-gazing. The house's builder had been a motivated amateur astronomer who had based his entire floor plan on creating the perfect spot to set up one of his many telescopes for all-night viewing sessions. He had even installed a weather-impervious dome to safely house a scope overnight and save himself the long schlep up and down the length of the deck to the permanent storage cubby built into the side of the home. Judicious use of reflective paint and low LED lighting allowed visitors to find their way down the length of the deck without superfluous light; it was an elegant setup the volunteer astronomer had sold fast at a loss when he received his acceptance into the NASA astronaut training program.

When Red rejoined her on the deck carrying a bottle and a pair of glasses, Liz had already set up camp on the skywatching balcony, occupying one of the pair of padded mahogany loungers parked in front of the now empty telescope dome. After his eyes had fully adapted to the darkness he paused to admire the thousands of pinpricks dotting the sky, far more than were ever visible from the city.  On a good night he could even follow the majestic curve of the Milky Way slicing through the night and reminding him of his relative unimportance in the universal scheme of things. Tonight he wasn't so lucky. He did catch a bright flash out of the corner of his eye, and turned just in time to glimpse a falling star dropping towards the horizon.

"That was a meteor," Liz confirmed as he voiced his discovery. "There's been a few of them in the last few minutes. Elenna didn't say anything about a shower occurring tonight." Their friend loved the astronomical features of the safe house, and often tipped them off ahead of time when interesting celestial events were coming up. Red had originally asked Dembe to put the location on the schedule with the idea of inviting her and Donald to visit for several days.

"Elenna had other thoughts on her mind today," Raymond replied calmly as he handed Liz her drink. Distraction worked; Liz's expression screwed up into a grimace of dismay and disapproval behind her wine glass that had thankfully nothing to do with him.

"I don't believe her!" Liz declared in exasperation. "I thought she had a lot more common sense than that. What is she thinking?"

 _"The heart has its reasons, whereof reason knows nothing,"_ he replied evenly. "Blaise Pascal. I've always been fond of that quotation. I'm assuming you tried to talk to her today about this?"

Liz nodded,and raised her palms in an pantomime of futility. Red smiled suddenly with ill humor. "Lizzie dearest, we might not perhaps be the best voices of moral authority in this particular situation. I'm sure Agent Cooper will have a private conversation with her once he's made aware of Agent Smith's involvement. Harold will surely already be aware of his reputation. Frankly I can't imagine he will be any more thrilled to work with the man than I am."

"So you think this is a real offer?" she asked with the skepticism he had expected. "The terms are pretty generous in our favor. Why would the Attorney General agree?"

Red savored his drink for a moment. "Because for his many faults the AG is a practical man. I can be quite useful for him and he knows that. But there is still the matter of the mole that precipitated our departure. I won't return until I know the task force and its chain of command are clean."

"I've thought a lot about that," Liz admitted. "I knew everyone there; all of the agents, the techs, the secretaries... I can't imagine any of them as the mole. Gary Martin was a jerk but he didn't know about the transfer." She closed her eyes and flashed back to those horrible moments when she learned that the false transfer Raymond had instigated from the Post Office had been compromised and he had gone missing for hours. That film still played in the back of her mind every time he was more than a few minutes late coming home.

"This government is simply riddled with Alliance agents,' he reminded her. "I've no doubt the mole occupies a large corner office in the J. Edgar building. I also have no doubt that with his extensive connections, Agent Smith can find the mole for us as part of any deal. How do you feel about going back, Lizzie?"

She pulled her legs up so she could wrap her arms around her knees. The breeze coming off the lake had just switched from cooling towards chilling. "It would be nice to not have to worry about capture," she admitted. "And for Res' and El's sake. I guess it would feel a little strange walking back in to the office but I think it would be for the best, if you're sure it would be safe."

"Didn't I promise to always keep you safe?" he replied with a gentle caress on her arm. She leaned in and his heart leaped at the hope that maybe he would be home free after all tonight. Then she pulled back and regarded him once more with the same profile's suspicious mask he had faced down so many times in the past. "What deal did you make with the Alliance?" she demanded.

His head tilted sharply as a half-dozen potential replies were sized up then rejected. "Just be honest with me, Raymond. You promised me that, too."

"I promised you full honesty, I know," he answered slowly. He paused for one sweep of his gaze across the majestic sea of stars above him before answering. "So I will be honest with you, Lizzie, and inform you that I will continue to lie to you and the rest of the world about just one topic. As long as I keep telling that lie, dearest, I had been assured that the Alliance will not harm you or anyone else in my closest circle. That promise was the reason you came home safely to me today and I will not regret that. And if that promise is reneged anyway, I still have other justifications to continue this lie indefinitely."

She pursed her lips. "What topic, Raymond?"

He was silent so long she assumed he wouldn't answer. But he did, softly and with every intention of never speaking on the subject again. "My lie, dearest Lizzie, is that I don't know what happened to my family that night."

 

 

 

 

Reddington allowed himself to lie directly to her about one thing only, but he sometimes allocated a wide grey zone of omissions and minor fibs to that topic as well. He didn't tell Lizzie what had happened earlier that day while she was still in Asheville.

After kissing her good-bye, he spent the first part of the morning on the phone haggling over wedding details. As the wedding date grew closer the finer points of the arrangements grew exponentially. He had hired a excellent team of professional event planners, of course, within days of Lizzie first saying 'yes', but there were too many particulars far too important to be left to their control. The reply from his first message to Elenna requesting her decision on potential bridesmaid dress colors was amused and lacking the requested information. The next two text responses on the topic were indignant and still inconclusive. Today he had finally decided to stick with all white anyway for the blooms and eliminate her obstinacy from the equation. An hour long phone conversation with the florist had resulted in final decisions on the varieties of blooms for all of the church's decorations and the bouquet Lizzie would carry.

He permitted himself a moment of quiet satisfaction. Everything was coming together well. The rings had been purchased and engraved in Havana, then sent off by Father Carlos in the care of one of the young priests to Rome to be specially blessed in preparation for the nuptials. Lizzie's conversion classes had been conducted via phone calls and paper workbook, and were thankfully going to be finished in time. Poor Father Carlos probably very much regretted that he had asked the groom to come in for confession before the ceremony. Red had chosen to split that process over multiple visits to Havana during the previous month. He was cautiously optimistic he could have that task finished as well before the wedding date, so long as he didn't have to add on too many more acts requiring atonement during the next few weeks. As an addendum to that thought, his last act of the morning before taking a break was a series of phone calls to a subset of his favorite customers.

When Red finally emerged from behind the closed doors of the office of the safe house, Dembe was waiting for him in the kitchen, sipping tea while reading a paper copy of yesterday's Wall Street Journal. "I think I'd like to head into town for a while," Red stated with some enthusiasm. "I have a few hours free to indulge before Lizzie flies back in. We'll get lunch at that charming little Ethiopian restaurant we both like."

Dembe was readily agreeable. He drained his teacup and departed outside to bring around the car. Red had claimed the newspaper for the ride and kept up a running commentary the whole time Dembe was doing his best to dodge the ruts and potholes of the neglected road. Once they hit the maintained state road the drive was easy and they were soon cruising through the most touristy part of town. They drove within blocks of the Post Office, whose ironic location so close to the halls of democracy always struck Red as slightly humorous.

The criminal studied the passing sights closely with wistful flashes of jealousy of the bevy of tourists. He more than most people had recognized the dramatic change in the city's approach towards security after the 9/11 attacks. Before then he had been able to visit most of the attractions easily enough; during the late nineties he had even once on a whim taken the FBI tour, passing within feet of his own wanted poster without attracting undue notice. Today, thanks to the new normal and the vast increase in technology most of the interesting places were now permanently off-limits for both him and Lizzie.

Red decided to spend his couple of hours of solitary time at the zoo. Dembe gamely tagged along as his friend passed from exhibit to exhibit, loudly elaborating on his Hamlet-like internal debate on supporting the efforts of such institutions to save endangered species at the same time they locked them away in cages. Halfway through the primate zone Red took advantage of an empty bench in a shaded shelter for a temporary escape from the afternoon heat. His seat faced a thick glass wall that had been erected to allow an excellent and protected view of all corners of the chimpanzee enclosure. Red briefly removed his hat long enough to fan himself, then relaxed back in his seat to observe both the small groups of animals clustered underneath shady trees and playing quietly, and the small clumps of loud raucous humans who passed by quickly without showing much interest in the view. He smiled involuntarily as a little girl raced by and pressed her fingers and nose right up against the glass. Her mother followed behind slowly with a gentle admonishment about scaring the chimps.

"You always did have such a fondness for animals." The voice was familiar in a nightmare sort of way. He pulled it out of memory quickly since it was a voice he had once heard daily a long time ago. He pursed his lips tightly but didn't flinch or acknowledge the speaker. Dembe was nearby and there was no reason to make a scene and scare the young family. "The question that comes to mind is if you are trying to empathize with those creatures in their cages. But they are innocent, Ray, so don't presume you can understand how they feel."

"It has been a very long time, Tory," Reddington replied blandly. Decades later the fury was still unabated and it took locking his eyes on the back of the little girl's head to keep him from wrapping his hands around his ex-wife's throat right there. Whether she recognized her danger or not, the woman took a seat next to him calmly as if they were dear old friends. "Why have you come to see me now?"

"We don't need to rush into business, do we?" she asked lightly. "Can't we take a moment to say hello?" He glanced over. Her hair was now a tastefully done shade of blonde, and the slight crookedness of her nose he had once found charming had at some point been surgically fixed. She wore a wedding band on her left hand that was much flashier than the one he had once given her that she had claimed to adore. "So much has changed for both of us, Ray," she continued as she gave him the same look-over. "But I see you landed on your feet."

"Not as well as you," he retorted. "I've had my ups and downs, as I'm sure you know."

"You haven't made yourself that hard to track. All those years you kept using your real name. I never understood that." She shifted slightly his way and he grimaced.

"I wasn't the one who brought dishonor on to the name. That was purely the fault of Mrs. Reddington."

She shrugged. "I haven't heard that name spoken once since you left. To be honest, I rarely think of the past. It was a whole different life I've done my best to forget ever happened. I'm only here because Alan asked me to come and talk to you. I'm here to offer you a favor, Ray."

"After our most recent encounter I doubt Alan would be offering me any favors," Red replied dubiously. Their last meeting had ended with Red holding a broken bottle shard to the Vice-President's neck after his threats against Lizzie.

"You were best friends for years, Ray. He still has some fondness for you, even after all that's happened." She had twisted in her seat so that she was facing his way, legs crossed demurely with her right shoe dangling from the tip of her toes in the same old flirty habit that had always captured him. He glanced then quickly turned away again when she grinned in triumph. She leaned her elbow on the back of the bench and rested her cheek in her palm. "Maybe he's feeling some guilt as well. Did he ever tell you we were sleeping together the last six months of our marriage?"

To her slight disappointment Red remained emotionless and silent. "He sent me to make you one last offer to join our cause. He promises you and your young girlfriend will each receive a full immunity deal, with pardons once the President leaves office in a few months and he takes charge."

"President Ferrell has three years left in his term," Red replied calmly. "and the answer is no."

"Don't be a fool, Ray," Tory admonished. "Ferrell won't live to see the end of his term, and if you refuse this offer you won't make it that long either. If you try to stop us in Asheville we will fight back. Since we started the timeline any foolish attempt to expose us will accomplish absolutely nothing. We were ready to start because we knew you couldn't harm us any longer; our network is now so vast and far beyond what you've imagined. Picture the world we're about to create, Ray. You could be part of it."

"Tell Alan your attempt was a failure. Good-bye, Tory." Red rose to his feet with finality.

She reached out and gripped his wrist tightly. "I did love you at some point, Ray, for a short while," she said. "For that I'll add that your pet FBI agents could be part of the deal as well. I know you're fond of them. That redhead, she looks so much like..."

"Just stop," he pulled out of her grip. "You have no idea what resources I can muster as well. If you want a war you'll have it. But never come back into my sight again, Victoria. We are done." He marched briskly towards the exit of the exhibit, where thankfully Dembe had been waiting armed and ready throughout the conversation. But Tory wasn't done.

"We buried her, Raymond!" she screamed suddenly to his retreating back. "It was just Alan and me alone in the cemetery with the grave diggers and some half-drunk pastor mumbling about a new angel in Heaven. You should have been there too, but instead you abandoned us to run away and hide. I swear you can never be forgiven for your actions that night, by me or anyone who ever hears the truth!"


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Agent Davidson makes a discovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting very early this Thursday, I know, but the timing worked out for me.
> 
> Many thanks for the kudos - I still celebrate every single one!
> 
> In case anyone forgot, I own Agents Smith and Davidson. The others will be returned unharmed to their legal owners when I'm finished with them.

Agent Davidson had always known it would had to happen eventually, but like climate change and old age it was one of those things she had just put off thinking about. But of course it was one of those things that just had to happen at the worst possible time, too.

By an odd series of coincidences, the Davidson family had three members whose birthdays fell within two weeks of each other with the others only one month in either direction; so close together that the family celebrations had long ago merged into one massive birthday party for everyone at once. This year's event was of those many items floating around in the back of Elenna's head that were important and fast coming up but kept slipping in and out of her attention, like a dentist appointment or renewing her car registration. With all of the other events going this week she would have probably forgotten again, but her brother had called her that weekend with his yearly request to go dutch on presents for the rest of the family and she had muttered curses and joined in the yearly ritualistic ping pong volley of texts debating "Where to Eat?". Once upon a time those options had been limited to a choice between local eateries in their hometown, but thanks to the time and travel limitations necessitated by her job it had been decided last year that her parents and brothers would instead make the journey to D.C. Like usual the family debate ended with the default choice of last year's okay restaurant and a weird mid-week meeting time.

She had spent an hour of Monday's staff meeting sort of hiding behind Aram, pretending to pay attention to Agent Cooper when in reality she was hunched over her phone, plowing through Amazon seeking suitable presents that could be shipped overnight.  Tuesday evening she had arrived late to the party scene with hastily wrapped packages in tow for a few hours of pretending she had a nice normal job just like everybody else.

Like usual her parents had sensed her weak spots and pounced; her father with blissfully unaware joviality asking about her job and her mother wondering if she had met any nice guys lately. She glared at each of her brothers in turn to silent beg for help, but they were useless due to their own burning curiosity. She had been running so late that afternoon that she had broken one of her own golden rules and had not stopped off at the loft to change out of her work clothes; neither Reverend nor Dr. Davidson had ever seen her dressed for her job before and they were intrigued to see their often shlubby sister in a well-fitted grownup suit and heels. Back in the car she had shrugged off her holster and switched her service weapon to her favorite hiding spot in the small of her back where her pacifist mother couldn't see it and make her typical passive-aggressive comments on the violent nature of her career choice.

With nothing else to say, Elenna cautiously offered a little honesty in reply to the interrogation. "It's possible I may be transferring to a new position," she announced with some trepidation. She had had lunch with Smith the day before to further discuss his previous offer of a transfer to San Francisco. By the end of the meal he was cheerfully offering his help in finding a good apartment within the city by the end of the month.

"Can you talk about this new position?" her father demanded. He had taken the secrecy about the details of her employment much worse than the rest of the family. After two years the rest of them had learned to talk around the big gaping holes in their knowledge of her life but he never could. She and Liz had commiserated on the topic once over drinks back when she still had been Agent Keen. Lizzie had told stories about coping with the security issues with her ex-husband that first year she still believed he was just an innocent bystander. It was stressful, both agreed over their drinks, to keep big secrets from the people you loved.

Elenna shrugged. "There's just not that much interesting to say about my job," she offered her usual lie for these occasions. She had given up on 'classified' as a fruitless excuse long ago, and she had never been crazy enough to use 'national security' on them.

"I told you, Dad, she's working with the X-Files division," teased Edward, the younger of the brothers who, she surmised, probably at some level hoped that was true. She shook her head with derision but still appreciated the attempt to railroad Dad off-topic.

"You should get back on that Reddington task force," her father advised instead. "You know they're still searching for him and that woman agent who ran off with him. I'm sure with your experience they would welcome you back on the team."

Elenna was sure some day during some conversation with her father she was going to chomp her way right through her lower lip. "No thanks. Trust me, I've wasted more than enough of my time dealing with his sorry ass," she muttered darkly.

"Language, Elenna!" her mother exclaimed in the exact same morally wounded tone she had used to admonish her daughter throughout her childhood and teenage years. El took a sip of her iced tea and just held back on the next words that wanted badly to pop out of her mouth.

"So where is this new job located? Still D.C., right?" Edward asked.

As soon as she opened her mouth to reply it dropped open in first surprise then dull resentment. Her phone was vibrating in her back pocket. She had set it to emergency ring only; this was either a Post Office problem or...

"I gotta take this," she announced to the table as she pulled out her phone and studied at the screen. Because apparently God needed a little extra amusement out of her that day, she glowered silently, it was Jay's Subs. She jammed the green button and answered with a "Hey, bad timing! I'm with..."

Of course this would be that one time ever it wasn't Lizzie or even Dembe who had placed the call. "I am aware of your present location, Agent Davidson. I am truly sorry to disrupt your visit with your family," Red replied apologetically.

She glanced around the table at her audience of bewildered family members. They were dead silent, an incredible rarity in the family history. So it had finally happened; the worlds were not colliding, but certainly bumping into each other ungracefully. "What do you want?" she demanded into the phone.

"My people have taken into custody a person of interest from Asheville. I thought perhaps you would be in the mood to play 'bad cop' tonight."

Oh, that man and his infuriating ability to push the right buttons. "Where and when do I meet you?" she demanded.

"You're slipping, Agent Davidson. Dembe and I are parked right out front of your restaurant. Don't worry, one of my men will be happy to deliver your car safely home for you. Of course if you'd like me to come in and meet the family..."

"I'll be right out." She poked the end button, grabbed her drink and drained it before looking at any of her family members again. "I'm sorry. There's been a big break in a case... I gotta go. Happy birthday all." Four variations of disapproval gazed back at her in the heavy silence.  She tapped the top box of her stack of presents as a sad final offering as she fished out her keys from her purse. Her eyes were drawn to the large plate glass window at the front of the narrow bistro. As promised a dark Mercedes waited just outside the entrance. Red was standing next to the open back door with the current burner phone still in hand.

Unfortunately her father picked up the direction of her gaze; fortunately he didn't recognize the man idling outside evidently waiting for his daughter. "Think about what I said," he advised her. "You need a better job."

"Yes, I need a better job!" she agreed loudly as she burst through the front door and swooped past her nemesis into the back of his car. "I really do need a better job. What the hell are you doing, showing up here like this?" she nearly shouted as he reseated himself on his side of the vehicle.

"I apologize, Agent Davidson, but your location was along the way and I thought you'd want to be a part of this interrogation," he answered her calmly. "Were you having fun?"

"None at all, but still, they're family..." she bit her tongue sharply as she stopped herself for Lizzie's sake. "So who do you have in custody?"

"He's an official with the county health office. Apparently he's been quite the tough nut to crack. I have one of my best people flying up from Miami to take over the discussion. I strongly suspect the majority of the town's leadership are also Alliance members."

"Have you told Smith yet?" she asked.

Red pursed his lips. "If Agent Smith is as good as all of us believe he'll already know what I've done. I'm sure he'll be contacting me shortly. On that subject, has he made your transfer offer official yet, Agent Davidson?"

She huffed defensively, "That would be absolutely none of your business, Reddington."

Red crossed his legs, stretched out his arms along the back of the seat and issued her a vague unoffensive look that made her want to punch him even more. "I disagree. If Lizzie and I do agree to return, the composition of the task force is of great consequence for us. We would both vastly prefer if you continue on in your current position. Whatever financial or professional perks he has offered you in enticement you know I would certainly arrange to have matched or exceeded."

"You can't bribe me into staying," she replied shortly.

His frown deepened. "So you have reached a final decision. Would you really uproot your life for this man? You would leave behind your family, your friends..."

"And the task force? Yep. Discussion over. What else have you learned about Asheville or the Alliance?"

He debated this silently for a moment. "What about Donald? The two of you could have been truly happy together."

"Ask him," she shrugged. "He gave up on me pretty damn quickly when the going got a little tough. Now, you're either getting out of my personal business or I'm getting out of this car. Where are we on the bioagents?"

"They've been placed somewhere within a few hours' radius of Asheville for temporary storage. I have an old Iraqi friend who's rather experienced in moving WMDs around under the radar. He'll be arriving in the U.S. within the week to help with the search."

It was her turn to fall silent. "Where's Liz?" she finally asked.

"She's in Paris for her dress fitting," he replied with a slight fond smile at the thought. "I will not allow any act of the Alliance to disrupt our plans for our future together. I'm inclined to accept the immunity offer with the stipulation that Agent Smith offers his aid in uncovering the Alliance mole that caused the rift in our previous understanding."

"I think he would offer his help with that anyway," she retorted. "You know he's got a personal problem with moles and traitors."

"Yes, I've heard that," Red answered wearily.

The sudden stopping of the car caught both of their attention. Deep in their conversation, neither had realized they had pulled behind their destination; yet another abandoned warehouse far from the kind of people who would notice gunshots or other nasty business. Elenna sometimes wondered if D.C. had a special zoning code for this kind of place with good tax benefits or some other compelling reason to never clean them up. 

"Are you ready to use excessive force, Agent Davidson?" Red inquired.

"Lead the way. I still have a lot of rage built up from my parents treating me like I'm twelve years old," she answered primly.

"You must forgive them, Elenna. No parent ever loses the instinct to protect their child," he answered with a sudden gentleness. He guided her into the building with a series of soft touches on her shoulder, and while rushing through her furiously speeding chain of thoughts, she didn't think to brush him off.

 

 

 

The interrogation went much quicker than she had expected and more productive.  Red promised to put their new knowledge immediately into play and sent her off again in the car with the admonishment to go back and visit with her family.  She was able to catch them for a few hours at their hotel, groveled for forgiveness and enjoyed a few moments of their typically loud obnoxious family interactions before she called it a day and returned home.

She collapsed on the couch with a relieved deep breath just in time for the phone to ring. She grinned when she recognized the tone and while lounging back on the sofa answered with a teasing, "I sure hope this is a booty call."

"El," Smith's voice was emphatically not joking. "Tell me what you know about Donald Ressler."

She flushed red hot for a second then quickly forced herself to school her emotions back to professional. "He's been my partner for almost two years now. He's an excellent agent with numerous commendations. What else do you want to know about him?"

Smith's sudden seriousness was unnerving. "Elenna, I've been running background on the task force. I just received the final confirmation from my sources on something that came up earlier in my check on him. Donald Ressler is an invented identity. Whoever your partner really is, he used counterfeit IDs to first join the military then faked more records later to get accepted to the FBI."

"No," Elenna exclaimed furiously. "Red would have..."

"Found this out? He doesn't have the depth of access I do, nor do I think he looked for this kind of trickery when he turned himself in and picked his team. I'm sorry, El, but I believe that your partner is the mole you've been searching for. "


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reddington investigates the allegations against Agent Ressler.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was talking about Archive with some fellow Amazon authors recently. In my humble opinion, the kudo/comment system is more fair and user-friendly than the five star rating/review system. The more I deal with Amazon, the more impressed I am with the way a number of volunteers have put together this incredible website - after using both sites as an author I think Archive is actually much more advanced in many ways. Real time data, easy posting and editing - I got a little spoiled here.
> 
> language warning - when Agent Ressler is angry he drops F-bombs. And he's not too happy right now...

Liz had scored for herself a whopping six hours of sleep in the last two days, and this morning it was starting to take its toll.

Since most of Red's contingency plans for immediate escapes involved having the jet at hand, non-essential flights without him on board were usually scheduled for off-hours, when he was least likely to need it. Yesterday's flight to Paris had arrived in the wee hours of the morning so that it could drop her off, refuel, and be back in D.C. before the city awakened. The odd arrival time on top of the time zone changes had jet-lagged her badly enough to prevent her from falling asleep at their Paris apartment and left her laying on the bed and pondering the issues in her life. 

The fitting was just as awful as she had been dreading. There was no budging on that bodice, and she gave up and gave in to the fluffy skirt.  The master designers had not appreciated her yawning her way through the tedious hours of debate over folds and stitches, and retaliated by some snarky comments on what sections of the dress needed to be let out again. The confab finally ended with the designers warning her that several more action-packed appointments would be required before she could ever be permitted to wear their design publicly.

Liz's mood perked up afterwards with a stroll through the heart of the city on a beautiful sunny day. She decided that the parks of Paris were even more beautiful in reality than all of their painted images stored in the local museums. After her lengthy hike, she treated herself to some decadent pastries at a street cafe and ruminated on all of the witty comments she could have zinged those designers with earlier, had they come to mind in time. After all, she reminded herself as she sipped her wine, cranky fashionistas were a lot easier to handle than the Alliance thugs in Asheville, though she kind of wished she could have used a similar method to subdue the Monsieurs.

An after-dinner phone call from Raymond cheered her up even farther. They took a virtual tour of the city by streetlight, with her providing the physical presence and he running a continuous commentary of stories and memories as she passed by each landmark. After their conversation she had returned to the apartment overflowing with love and contentment and had collapsed exhausted on the bed into an immediate deep restorative sleep.

This ended six hours later with an urgent beep in the middle of the night. "El?" she grunted at her phone.

"Liz, you need to come back home now!" her friend demanded.

It was the tone of her voice that threw off the last shreds of sleepiness and bolted her upright and reaching for clothes. "Are you okay? What happened?" Liz demanded with concern.

Silence on the other end, then a quiet, "We found the mole. I have to talk to you and Red in person as soon as you can get back here. Don't speak about this with anyone else." Then a click.

Liz froze for a minute then sprung back into action by dialing the safe house and repeating the conversation for Raymond. "I don't know what she meant," he declared in consternation. "She must have heard something from Smith. The jet couldn't get there until morning, Lizzie. We'll book you a commercial flight instead so you can arrive earlier." So she spent the rest of the night in a jam-packed commercial jet, wide awake and shuttling back and forth between her fears of being recognized and her dread of who Elenna was about to out as their betrayer.

As soon as the plane landed and she cleared customs she offered a thankful prayer for Raymond's excellent faked identification papers and dived into the car waiting patiently at the arrivals curb. Raymond himself was inside and happily accepted her enthusiastic hugs.

"Dearest, I am glad you are home!" he exclaimed tenderly while a pair of fingers brushed back her hair. "While you were in flight I contacted Agent Davidson and arranged a meeting place nearby." He fussed over her some more as they cleared the airport congestion, taking some of the edge off her nerves.

Their rendezvous spot was only a couple of miles away, in the midst of a mass of hotels and restaurants geared towards businessmen with generous travel reimbursement accounts. Her friends' Mustang stood out in the mass of bland four-door rentals gathered around one of the better class of chain hotels.  The agent was waiting inside in the restaurant, dressed for work and holding her phone as if she didn't quite know what to do with it. When they had seated themselves on the opposite side of the table she slammed down the phone and gazed somberly at each in turn.

"I just called the hotline and anonymously reported seeing the two of you in Arlington. Cooper called me and I didn't answer, so I would assume he called Ressler and sent him to investigate. It will keep him occupied for awhile so we have some time to decide what to do about him."

"You believe Agent Ressler is the mole?" Red replied calmly as Liz gasped. "Why?"

Elenna rubbed her fingers against her temple. "You need to talk to your people who did our background checks because they really messed up on this one. The IDs he used to join the military were medium quality forgeries. Now that we're looking closely, his story is coming apart at the seams. The parents in New York, the sister in L.A., none of them are real. Smith's working now to find out his true identity, but it's not Donald Ressler." The fury in her voice caused both of them to wince.

"I will confirm that, of course," Red replied quickly, "before we take any actions solely based on intel from Agent Smith."

"It makes sense," Elenna replied with resignation, as if she just she just pushed in the last puzzle piece and the resulting image wasn't nearly as pretty as the box. "Since his first days in the FBI he's always been connected to your case in some fashion. It was a smart way for the Alliance to keep tabs on you. They never expected you to turn yourself in, but they already had a man in place ready to take advantage of that." She sighed heavily as both took this in and couldn't voice any fault with the logic. "He knows everything about our plans, the Post Office, he even knows about Smith's involvement. Now we know how the Alliance found out we were aware of Asheville. He's a much better under cover agent then I ever gave him credit for," Elenna added angrily. "The son of a bitch had me believing him."

"I can't believe it!" Liz exclaimed. She stared down her friend and admonished, "And neither should you."

"Why? Because I'm his partner, or because I was sleeping with him?" Elenna returned bitterly. "Of course I wish Smith was wrong on this one, but I don't know how else to explain away his living under a fake identity. And Lizzie..."

"I for one should understand, right?" Liz pursed her lips at the reference to her own demented ex, then fell silent again. There was no way not to think back to all of the odd little moments, the quick conversations about holidays and families that now in retrospect seemed a little wooden or stilted. She had always attributed this to Res' standard stoicism. The new explanation was logical and painful but not dismissible. "So what do we do?"

"Nothing," Red insisted. He rose from his seat and replaced his hat and sunglasses as he spoke. "Go about your business as usual today, Agent Davidson. I will investigate this farther using my own resources. Give me one day, and If indeed there is reason to suspect Donald we will talk about our next actions tomorrow."

"One day," Davidson agreed reluctantly, rising up as well. "If I don't hear really good reasons otherwise I go directly to Cooper exactly twenty-four hours from now. I won't risk him getting away. I for damn sure want my turn at that interrogation."

"Twenty-four hours," Red repeated firmly. His plans for dealing with Agent Ressler were already formed and ready to put into action.

 

Donald Ressler was on his third shot of vodka with every intention of following it up with many more.  After his last tasks for the day were accomplished he had retreated to the sanctuary of his desk to stare across what had become a vast and lonely office. Agent Davidson had been in and out all day, finding reasons to disappear any time he entered the room. In return he kept himself busy with meaningless scutwork until the clock read five and the weekend had officially begun, and plotted his escape. Agent Cooper had bumped into him by the elevator and studied his expression closely for a few extra seconds while wishing him a pleasant evening. The young agent's placidness hadn't offered enough hints of the turmoil below for the older man to follow up on his intuition and stop him from leaving. So Agent Ressler had stopped by his favorite liquor store, picked up a couple of bottles, rejected the idea of a mixer, and had come straight back to his apartment with one goal in mind.

He plunked down the glass after shot number four and blinked wearily at the blurred mirage that had appeared in the suddenly open doorway of his apartment. "What do you want?" he demanded angrily.

The apparition chided him gently in return. "Donald, is this really how you should spend your evening?" Don didn't reply as Red breezed in and settled himself comfortably on Elenna's end of the sofa. His eyes soften in commiseration as he laid a fatherly hand on the young agent's arm. "We have something to talk about."

No one, not Elenna nor even Lizzie, knew how many times Reddington had made these private visits to Donald's home.

They had begun in the previous year, just days after the younger man had lost his fiancé to a killer's bullet. The visits started with Red suddenly appearing in the neighborhood bar Don had begun to frequent. The criminal would come in and perch silently on a nearby stool to wait patiently as Don would defiantly drink his way to oblivion, then deliver him safely home to a few hours of restless sleep. After several of these evenings, Don began to offer up a few despairing comments here or there that were answered simply and without judgment or attempts at false cheer. After a few months of this, their sessions relocated from the bar to the kitchen of Don's apartment, and the few bitter comments morphed into running commentaries on the uncaring nature of a universe that who would give him back his beloved Audrey only to cruelly steal her away again. Red would listen and nod with quiet empathy and allow the poor man to spill out all of his fears and hurts in the safe unconditional zone they had created. Finally, as Don's heavy burden of grief began to lighten and he could sometimes envision a real future again, the visits diminished in number. Red hadn't been by the apartment since Elenna's first overnight stay.

"What do you need to tell me?" Red repeated kindly but firmly.

Don kept his eyes on the glass clutched in his hands. "She's staying with him tonight, isn't she?" he asked numbly.

"Yes, Donald," he answered reluctantly, and the young man's face crumbled even farther. "She still hasn't spoken to you, I assume?"

"No, she's been really pissed at me and I don't know why," he admitted. "Ever since Smith showed up she's been unpredictable as hell."

"Women are unpredictable by nature, Donald. But Elenna still loves you. Agent Smith is only a temporary distraction." Red wandered off to the kitchen to seek out a clean drinking glass, then helped himself to a generous serving of the good Kentucky bourbon he had previously stashed under the sink. He kept up a running stream of chatter the entire time. "I must admit I've always admired Agent Smith, from a safe distance of course. As much irritation he's caused me over the years he's always been an utterly fascinating enigma." He reseated himself on the sofa and turned to his young companion. " He passed on some information this morning, Donald. About you."

Agent Ressler heaved a heavy sigh as his worst fear came to pass. "I figured you already knew everything about me, Red."

"Not everything." Red poured out another round, then set the bottle far to his other side, for the time being keeping it out of Don's reach. They settled into a patient silence as Donald mentally generated and rejected multiple answers to Red's last question.

"Donald Ressler was the name on the fake IDs I bought," he finally answered, with the sense of resignation of the condemned man marching towards the gallows.

Red replied with a carefully neutral tone. "I knew that you served in the military as well as the FBI and that your record for both have been exemplary. I didn't conduct any investigation into your earlier years."

"Apparently Smith dug deeper." Don couldn't sit still anymore; his nerves pulled him out of his seat to aimlessly pass around the room as he explained. "Both of my parents came from old families with lots of old money. I grew up thinking it was perfectly normal to hang out with the kids of Presidents and rich corporate titans. My father just assumed his only child would follow in his footsteps and someday helm the family business and make us even richer and more powerful." Donald was very glad he was drunk at that moment, because the idea that Red was looking at him with sudden suspicion would be far too hard to take sober.

"So one night that summer he pulled me into his office at the summer home in Nantucket," he continued. "He said it was time for me to step up and take my part in my inheritance. He was always talking about my inheritance, like he expected I was going to rule the world someday." He grimaced at the memory. "So he sat me down, poured me my first real drink from his personal bar, and told me all about the Alliance and their grand plans for the future. We were one of those few families that would prosper in this new world they were going to build after all of the worthless 'takers' were finally disposed of. When I finally understood he was completely serious, I walked out the front door of the house and never went back. I borrowed cash from a good buddy, bought the fake IDs and started my life over again far away from them and their plans."

"So you have been aware of the existence of the Alliance for some time," Red's carefully neutral tone had begun to lean towards disapproval.

Ressler shook his head in sudden boozy anger. "What was I going to do about it? I didn't have proof. Some of the names my father told me..." He sighed again. "I didn't know how to stop them. As far as I could tell I was the only outsider who even knew they existed, and I wouldn't have put it past my own old man to put a bullet in my head the second I blabbed to anyone else. What, did Smith tell you I'm an Alliance mole? Is that what you think?" He plunked back down on the couch again in defeat.

"Of course not, Donald." Red huffed with some indignation. "We may have had our disagreements, but I've never confused you for some genocidal Nazi. How closely has your birth father kept tabs on you?"

Donald gazed down in his empty glass. "When he realized I wasn't coming back, the old man had me declared missing and presumed dead in some faked accident. At first my mother hired a couple of private detectives to try to track me down, but she gave up even before I had left the military. So Elenna believes I'm the mole?"

Red winced slightly at his deadened delivery and ignored the question. "Tomorrow I would like if you could list all of the names you can remember from your father's discussion. Maybe there is someone we can convince to roll over on the rest of them."

"I can write them down now," Don offered and half-rose from his seat.

"No," Red replied with a hand on his arm. "Now you are going to take another couple of shots. We'll have another discussion soon, Donald, for which I think you should be in rather more open frame of mind. Drink up."

He did as commanded, silently and with great determination. His companion matched him for several rounds, refilling each glass as soon as it emptied, switching out bottles when the first was drained dry. Then Don fell backwards into the couch cushions and regarded his visitor with shaky vision. "What is going on, Reddington?" Don slurred suspiciously.

"I'm planning to get deeply involved in your personal business tonight, Donald," Red started out with his own bleary smile. "So it's only fair we start with mine. Elenna was supposed to tell you this, but... you are invited to join us in Havana, Cuba, on August 29, where Elizabeth Keen will become my lawfully wedded bride."

"Shit," Donald muttered to the ceiling. "No, no way can that ... how the fuck do you get legally married anywhere?"

"I admit, this took some large stacks of clean unmarked bills to accomplish, but I feel she's well worth the effort. Will you come, Donald?"

"Fuck," the drunken younger man muttered again with feeling. Then grabbed the bottle and slugged the final servings directly from the neck. Red waited until Don had messily wiped his mouth with his sleeve, then gently tugged the empty bottle away from his hands. On the way to the recycling bin he refilled his glass with the good bourbon, the kind he wouldn't let himself down so quickly.

Don had leaned back against the soft cushions of the couch, with a dour expression as if the end of the world had arrived as expected. "Why does a criminal like you get to be happy and I don't? What the hell is wrong with me?" he complained loudly.

Red took his seat again and waited until he had sipped the contents of his glass from three fingerfuls down to one before speaking. "Nothing, Donald. Nothing is wrong with you at all except you will lose Elenna if you don't stop pushing her away."

"I've lost her already," he moaned in reply.

Red shook his head ruefully. "Donald, I think I may have told you this once already, but you are a dammed fool. She'd be back in your arms in a minute if you'd only welcome her there."

Don shook his head, then frowned as the world spun as well. "She knows I love her."

"Does she? How, Donald? Have you ever said those words to her while standing upright and dressed? Have you met her family? Brought her flowers? Taken her out on a romantic date?"

"Shit, now you sound just like her. You know we can't go out in public together. Cooper will find out."

"And if he does?" Red replied. Don paused in his own drunken confusion to study the other man closely, and realized with surprise that his face had grown flushed, and he didn't think he was imagining that the older man had slightly slurred his words. At no point during any of their previous conversations had Red ever let himself get over the line towards tipsy. But he was well past that now. "Donald, admit what really scares you. You're afraid you'll lose her to violence like you did Audrey."

"Son of a bitch!" Don punched the pillow instead of what he really wanted to hit. "Why do you bring her up now?"

"Because you're going to definitely lose Elenna if you don't get over your fear of potentially losing her. It's terrifying, I know, to stare back at that dark abyss you just crossed and think about ever returning to that hell. But you have to take that risk again, Donald, or you will end up a broken and lonely old man. I know." Red finished by staring down into his now empty glass.

Sober Don would have backed off. But instead he nearly growled. "Who the hell are you to lecture me like this? Your wife lived, Red. You just abandoned her. She didn't die in your arms."

"My daughter did," Reddington replied softly. Don froze, sure at first he had heard the old man incorrectly. But Red continued leaning over with his head in his hands, staring down at the worn carpet between his feet. "The night I ran, Don... I was late getting home that night. I ran out of gas on the highway and had to walk the rest of the way up to the cabin. When I got there... " He clenched his eyes shut and paused to regain some measure of control before continuing. "They were already there waiting for me. My wife was handcuffed to the chair, bleeding and screaming at me for bringing their wrath down upon our heads. My daughter..."

Now he was speaking during the breaks between his sobs. Don had no idea what else to do but listen and let him finish his story. "She was crying because she didn't understand what was going on. She was only eight years old and it was Christmas Eve and some strange men were hurting her mother." He had to pause again for a moment. Don tentatively touched his shoulder, and the older man deflated even more at the small kindness. "The deal they offered me was simple; I go with them, hand over all of the evidence I had collected, and my family would not be harmed. So of course I agreed. It was fine until we reached the front doorway, and my little girl was confused and scared and ran towards me. I reached out to stop her from following us outside, and in the chaos one of the men fired their weapon. She died immediately, she didn't suffer," he insisted, still finding some thin comfort in that fact so many years later.

"Jesus," Don breathed.

"I managed to get the gun away and shoot the bastard who had killed her," Red continued. "But then they knocked me off-balance and dragged me out to the car away from her. The whole time my wife was inside screaming and cursing me straight to hell for causing our little girl to die." After this the sobbing was loud and uncontrollable; the counterpoint to all of the times in the past when it had been Don working through his sorrows. All the younger man could do was what had been done for him during those times. He stayed nearby, silently allowing the older man his space to mourn his loss again. Don finally had the presence of mind to hunt down a box of tissues for his companion. He took them gratefully and clutched them in his hands tightly without pulling out one for his use. For some time he let the tears continue to fall without any effort to hinder their progress, until he had finally calmed enough to be able to again face his companion.

"Does Liz know?" the younger man asked.

Red shook his head. "No. That would become part of our deal. I was told if I helped cover up my daughter's death Tory would be spared. Later on the deal was amended to protect my close associates instead."

Don paused, then revealed his last reservation. "When your wife went into witness protection, she claimed your girl was killed in retaliation for you cheating Iranian agents on a deal involving the sale of top secret documents."

"Of all the crimes I've been charged with, that is the only one of which I am in fact innocent." Red shrugged his shoulders. "Its a reasonable charge to believe, I know. I have committed treason, but just once, three years later when I needed the money to pay off a debt. Of course I suffered horribly from guilt over her death for years, but that lessened slightly when I learned yet another horrible truth." When silence followed he urged, "Go ahead, Don, ask me. There are no secrets between us tonight."

Don couldn't speak, but the way he bit his lower lip sufficed for Red as permission to continue. "Tory was born into an Alliance family. When I rejected membership and then threatened their very existence, she found herself in a difficult position with the leadership, having to chose sides between her husband and her parents. Tory helped them set the trap for me that night. So I won't condemn your actions in the past, Donald. You could have made much worse choices. Once Elenna hears the truth she will understand as well."

"She won't forgive me for lying to her," Don disagreed. "And who knows what this Smith is going to say when he hears the full truth."

"Don't let him interfere. Talk to her, Donald, soon." They gazed at each other, both struggling with integrating the new sense of trust and camaraderie that had formed that night out of their confessions.

"I'll protect her, Red," he promised with the same sincerity he hoped to someday offer her father.

Red smiled in reply. "I know you will, Donald. More importantly, love her wholeheartedly and let her love you in return."

"I'm sorry," Don declared with eyes downcast in guilt. "For condemning you all of those years without knowing the truth. I've said some cruel things about you to Lizzie, to Elenna..."

"You and everyone else," Red answered quickly. He tested his ability to stand upright and was pleased with the result. "You weren't wrong to condemn me, Donald. I have been a very bad man for a very long time. Who knows what actions I'll choose to take within the next few weeks? But tomorrow morning I am going to walk directly into Harold Cooper's office and have a conversation. I hope you will be there ready to work with me and the rest of the team to take down the Alliance for good."


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Agent Smith finds the mole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was one of those chapters that went very differently than what I had originally planned for. Sometimes the plot bunnies slip off the leash and run amok!

"We need to talk."

Agent Davidson shuddered slightly when she heard the words, but she remained at her seat and merely eyeballed her partner over the upper edge of her laptop. "About?"

"Lots of things, Davidson. We have a number of issues we need to clear up by the end of today." Ressler casually leaned back against her desk, legs outstretched and effectively blocking her escape. "But first I want to know if you were going to tell me today is your last day on the task force. You didn't leave yourself much time to pack." Her bewilderment gave him a second's pause before bulldozing forward. "Cooper cornered me when I came in to show me your transfer papers. This came as a huge shock to him, too. Especially when he wasn't cleared high enough to see where you're transferring. San Francisco, I'm guessing?"

"That's a mistake. The paperwork wasn't supposed to come through until next week," she said finally. "I wasn't going to leave until the new deal was settled." She tried to elbow past him, but Ressler shifted so that there was no way to get around. "Don't do this," she said quietly without meeting his eyes.

He glared down at the top of her head. "Do what, Davidson? I know your new boss made serious allegations against me. You weren't even going to ask me about what he found?"

"Red said you were innocent," she was close enough to whisper, still ever mindful of the listeners she imagined hanging on every word. For that reason alone she was tolerating the way he had gripped both of her hands tightly to keep her within reach of his words. Otherwise she would have left him with a broken wrist to remember her by. "He said you would explain everything to me. I said that would be a first."

"Do you love him?" Res whispered back and she shrank down as the puffs of air reached her ears. "El, if you really love Smith than I would be just wasting time and effort trying to keep you here. If you do, go and have a happy life with him in California. But if you don't..."

"Did you ever love me?" she asked instead with her face turned into his chest.

The knock on the door was sudden and insistent and Ressler's furious outburst to stop banging and go away should have frightened anyone off. But instead Aram stuck his head in. "He's here. He's actually here!" he declared in wonder. In his excited state he didn't even notice they way his colleagues had guiltily flown apart and were conspicuously staring in opposite directions. "Wow." Aram repeated several times to the sky.

"Who's here, Aram?" Davidson finally managed to ask calmly.

He locked eyes on her and smiled broadly. "Agent Smith. He said hello to me, in person. He called me by my full name," he informed them with pride.

"Where is he?" she demanded.

Aram finally picked up on her urgency. "He's in Agent's Cooper's office. It's crazy out there. As soon as Agent Smith stepped off the elevator Agent Cooper ordered the entire place cleared out. We're all supposed to evacuate the facility right now. Where are you going, Agent Davidson?" he demanded as she pushed past him out the door.

"He'll want to see me," she assured her colleague.

Ressler was three steps behind. "Stick around, Aram," he advised with a friendly tap on his shoulder as he passed. "We'll need you in a little while, I'm sure."

"The deal is going down today," Ressler advised her as they marched towards their goal. "Red was going to set everything up this morning. Did Smith tell you that?"

"We didn't talk work this morning," she relayed as quickly and emotionlessly as possible. He faltered a step or two then regained his momentum. They raced up the stairs to Cooper's office, which was now in the unusual state of having all of the blinds closed for privacy  Elenna didn't bother to knock; she burst in to the sight of the men warily eyeing each other across the assistant director's desk. The tension hit her like an invisible wall, preventing her from taking more than a step inside.

"Leave this room immediately." She didn't recognize Smith's voice until he repeated the command. Instead she stepped forward to confront him and shrunk back at the coldness of his expression. "I gave you an order, Agent Davidson."

"You're not my boss yet. He is," she turned to Cooper. "What's going on?" she demanded in concern.

"Agent Smith has just accused me of being the mole," Agent Cooper replied calmly.

She turned back to the silent visitor with a mix of curiosity and anger. "Last night it was Don. What changed your mind so quickly?"

Today his eyes were a cutting shade of blue that passed right through her. "I thought it would be best to dig deeper on the entire task force. The Alliance does a very good job of planting their people, but once I knew what to look for, all of the red flags were flying for Mr. Cooper. Elenna, get out of here now. You shouldn't be a part of this."

"Part of what?" Ressler interceded from the doorway. "What are you planning on doing to Agent Cooper? The same thing you had planned for me?"

"I'm still not entirely convinced of your innocence either, Agent Ressler, despite all of Mr. Reddington's assurances." He caught the sudden widening of Cooper's eyes and grinned. "Yes, Mr. Cooper, luckily the agents who trusted you with everything else were cautious enough to keep their most important dealings quiet. I bet you would have loved to have been the one to feed Reddington's current location back to your handlers. Would that have earned you a bonus?"

"No, it can't be him!" Elenna argued vehemently. "Smith, you have to be wrong again. Agent Cooper wouldn't..."

"The man who can confirm the truth of my allegations is about to walk through the front door of this black site," Smith interrupted her impatiently. "You should go meet them and let me finish this conversation." He abruptly turned away from her, as Ressler gently tugged her by the arm out of the office.

"I don't believe it," she exclaimed bitterly as she pulled away from his touch. "Cooper saved us so many times..." She had descended only three metal steps when the sight of Aram racing full speed across the main floor caught her attention. "What the hell?" she yelled out in disbelief.

He spun mid-step as he tracked her voice. "You won't believe who just now pulled up outside! This is just crazy!" he bellowed up from the empty war room. "We have to tell Agent Cooper!"

"Tell the guards to let them in, Aram," Ressler replied calmly. "On my orders. We'll catch you up on all of this shortly, I promise." He glanced over to Elenna, whose eyes had grown shiny as she bit down the first sob. "Come on," he said softly and clasped her hand. She nodded and followed a pace behind him, letting his grip keep her moving towards the main floor and the elevator doors.

The two occupants of the elevator took two entirely different poses as the heavy door slid open. Liz had retreated slightly towards the back corner, while Red had doffed his hat to gaze around the room with great interest. "It looks the same, just empty. Hello, Aram," he offered with his usual nonchalance from his many past visits. "Its good to see you again."

"Hello, Mr. Reddington," he replied. Then Aram turned to his disgraced former partner. "Welcome back, Liz."

Liz smiled back as his innate kindness overruled his confusion and he reached out his arms with the intention of giving a friendly hug of greeting. As soon as she could politely extract herself she did. Then her eyes locked on her best friend's and realized the reason for her distress. "Oh, El, I'm sorry," she declared as she rushed over. "If we would have known earlier..."

"So Smith is right?" Elenna wiped at her eye brusquely with the back of her hand. "Damn."

Red's eyes softened in sympathy. "Are they..."

"Upstairs in his office," Ressler supplied. Red nodded in understanding and said nothing else.

Aram was nearly beside himself at this point, having quickly swooped down from his earlier heights of fanboy excitement to escalating concern over his colleagues' distress. "What is going on here?" he demanded of the group.

No one answered at first. Then Red reached into his vest pocket and offered the contents to the young man. "You'll find some files on this drive that will collaborate Agent Smith's accusations against Agent Cooper. These were not easily nor cheaply obtained, but they offer the further proof I assume you've been seeking. Aram, Agent Cooper was the mole."

Aram's face took on the same pall as the rest of his team. "What will happen to him?" he asked numbly. When no one answered he didn't force the issue. The gunshot was muffled by the distance but still perfectly audible. No one spoke for minutes, feeling the silence as the only tribute they could offer for the man they had all owed gratitude for some kindness in the past.

In the resulting cavernous silence the metal staircase shook with each descended footstep. Once he reached level ground the man approached with palms on display, demonstrating that his hands were free of any residue from a fired weapon. "Agent Cooper..." Smith began.

"You son of a bitch!" Elenna snapped. He turned to her with the same tender expression she remembered from the night before, but its effectiveness was far gone. He tried to take her hand but she pulled out of reach with a snarl.

He stood his ground with a painful smile. "I'm so sorry, El. You weren't supposed to be here for this part. Why didn't you keep her away this morning like I asked?" he demanded of Red over her shoulder.

"Why should I have?" Red demanded in return. "Are you ashamed of your work, Agent Smith? After all, if you intended to make her a member of your team, she should know the full truth of what you do and who you really are."

Smith's eyes narrowed. "I would have had Agent Cooper transferred to a secure facility so that we could continue with further interrogations. Unfortunately he chose instead to commit suicide with a weapon he had hidden in his desk. As I understand the process, if he had cooperated in any way with our investigation, his family would have lost their protected status within the Alliance and be left undefended in the coming devastation. His last choice was to protect his family. I can almost respect that," he finished with some bitterness.

Elenna stepped forward, almost close enough to reach out and touch. "Is that what would have happened to Ressler last night?" she demanded angrily. "If Reddington hadn't finished your investigation for you, would you have confronted Don just like you did Cooper? Would you have locked him alone in a little room somewhere and given him the choice between suicide and a black site?"

"El, don't!" Ressler tried to cut in but she waved him off. "This doesn't help!" he insisted angrily. "We need to focus right now on a much bigger problem. After Anslo Gerrick, Cooper had a switch installed in his office, the fail safe. In case the facility is ever again taken by an enemy, he could activate a full burn and destroy everything. Not just the computers, I mean a physical burn of the entire facility. That's why he ordered all of the personnel out this morning. We might have just minutes left."

Reddington nodded in solemn understanding, as Liz pulled out her burner to dial Dembe. "We need to go now. Tell your men out front to evacuate as well."

"Give me two minutes and I can save at least some of the files," Aram offered. "I'll send what I can to offsite storage I trust in case we can find something useful buried in the files."

"You mean Torchwood? Yeah, they're good." Smith answered. "'l'll stick with Aram. We'll rendezvous at your safe house in half an hour, Reddington." He followed Aram to his nest of computers, while Ressler nudged Davidson on the shoulder.

"Are your keys in your desk?" he demanded.

"On top next to the laptop. What are you doing?" she called out as he jaunted off for their office. "We'll take your car. You don't want to leave it behind." He rushed in and out of the office, and hoisted his shiny metal find as a prize. Within a minute he had triangulated his dash with hers towards the rarely used flight of steps leading up to the parking lot and safety.

Seconds later they were in the car and moving. Tires screeched as Ressler swerved around the sharp turns of the interior ramp and raced towards the exit.

"Oh, shit, there's a team out there!" Davidson exclaimed at the sight of several black SUVs circling the exit.

"Hold on," he retorted. He spun around as bullets ricocheted off the cement pillars and walls, wincing as several of them hit the trunk of the car and breezed past his window. When he disappeared around the corner again the volleys temporarily stopped.

Elenna whirled around and tracked them through the windows to realize they had retreated to the protection of the cars. "They know its going to blow!" she declared in amazement.

"There's no other exit," Ressler warned her. "I'll have to improvise." The garage slope wasn't too steep, since once upon a time the pokey little Post Office vans had to have the ummph to reach its upper floors on cold icy days. The next floor featured low walls and one spot with a drop of only six feet onto a neighboring alley.

"Oh, my God, my car!" she muttered in disbelief as he gunned the engine.

"Sorry," he declared as he stomped on the gas. He had never purposely driven a car into any kind of obstruction before, but the front end plowed through the crumbling cement just like he had hoped it would, and the few seconds in the air were peaceful compared to the screaming chaos of tires and chassis smashing into the ground. Miracle followed miracle, and the engine still functioned afterwards without complaint. He whizzed out from the alley on to the main street just yards away from the team. This time the shooters were able to shatter one of the backseat side windows before he pealed away.

"Are you okay?" Ressler shouted as several shards of glass fanned out all over his partner. Then the double boom from behind prevented her from answering. The parking garage collapsed into the empty space that had been their office. The burst of air rushing from the collapse pushed the car along for a surreal minute. What followed then was eerie; no sirens yet, just the sudden cacophony of everyone on the road slamming their car breaks and laying on their horns, then dead silence as the crowds observed the dark cloud of ash rising up from the destruction. Ressler pulled over as well; the engine had developed a sudden rattle that he wasn't going to trust any farther. He waved his badge at the nearest car and ordered the driver out for 'national security' reasons.

Two blocks away he risked a glance at his companion. "Red's people will get your car back and fixed up," he reasoned.

She was digging through all of the car's storage caddies she could reach. "I hope so.  My insurance company was already going to drop me for too many accidents. Tell me the car owner left his phone," she declared hopefully. Both she and Ressler had abandoned theirs behind at the office with all other traceable tech. "Ah, it's on the charger!" she let go of the breath she was holding as she dug out the smartphone stashed between two empty Starbucks cups.

Liz answered on the first ring and both sobbed their gratitude for the other's safety. "What about Smith and Aram?" Elenna asked carefully.

Neither had called yet. "But Aram wouldn't have this number," Liz rationalized. "We're ten minutes out. See you there."

Elenna glanced at the phone again. "No word on the guys."

Ressler's lips tightened. "I'm sorry."

"Res, I don't," was her delayed response.

He thought about that, tried to make sense of her words, then finally asked what she meant. "I'm finally answering your question from earlier. I don't love him. That was just me running away from the continuing hurt and rejection of our little thing. I know, go ahead and tell me this isn't the right time to have this conversation," she sighed, and steeled herself up for another cagey response.

"It really isn't," Don replied honestly and to his own surprise chuckled and dove in anyway. "But I don't care. I love you, El. I love you even more than I am scared of losing you, and that's a hell of a lot right now. Please don't give up on me yet."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a pet goldfish named Agent Cooper. Thinking about renaming...


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New plans are made and put into action.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder... only Elenna and Smith belong to me!

The arriving agents were hopeful at first when they finally reached the end of the grandiose gravel drive and noted there were several cars parked around the circular lot. They bumped into Dembe half-way up the pathway to the front entrance of the mansion. The silent man motioned for Ressler to pass over the keys and continued on his way to their stolen car. When he started up his engine so did one of the other vehicles, and they formed a mini-convoy to creep back down the driveway towards the main road.

Liz was lingering at the entrance, her relief evident in her exuberant grin at the sight of them wearily trudging up the front step. "He's going to ditch your hot vehicle," she explained before she hugged both of them tightly in turn. "I'm so glad you both are okay!"

"Me too," Elenna replied with false cheer. "The boys haven't made it here yet?"

"Red's people are on the hunt for them now. Smith must have his own protection detail as well, though we've never spotted them. Hopefully they know to contact us so we can join forces."

"I bet that guy always lands on his feet," Ressler declared with some residual frustration. Both he and Liz sent sideways investigative glances towards Elenna, who was maintaining her best disinterested expression. In reality her thoughts were locked on other pressing concerns.

"Where's Red?" she asked.

"The main parlor, straight through to the back of the house," Liz answered. Elenna quickened her steps until she was nearly running the stretch across the enormous entryway towards the rear of the home. As promised he was seated calmly in of the clusters of facing sofas and wingback chairs with a phone pressed to his ear.

"Is my family safe?" she called out anxiously as soon as he came into view.

After a few brusque commands into the phone, Red jumped up from his comfortable position, absently dropping his glass on one of the rare wood tables nearby as he offered her the burner. "Call them immediately, tell them whatever you need to say so that they will be willing to leave with my men when they arrive." He smiled slightly as she gaped at him, at a total loss for words now that the impossible moment had arrived.

"Tell them whatever you need to say, Elenna," he repeated calmly. "You no longer are bound by any nondisclosure paperwork held by the FBI."

By now Liz and Ressler had come into the room and realized the reason for her urgency. They stood side by side near the entrance and watched mutely as she snatched the phone out of his outstretched hands. As she punched in the first phone number Elenna realized with some poignancy that she was the only one in the room with anyone to call with a warning. She sent texts saying 'emergency call me' to both parents and brothers, hoping that everyone had their phones handy and she could give them some kind of explanation before Red's people burst through their doors to haul them away for their own good.

As the phone rang she steadied herself for the coming conversation. As soon as she answered she burst into a stream of words she hoped he wouldn't be able to interrupt. "Dad, its me. Listen carefully, you're in immediate danger. I need you to get out of the court house right now; walk down to that place we had lunch the last time I met you downtown. Don't let anyone come near you unless they can give the password "Lizzie". No, leave your phone behind or they'll use it to track you. Yes, this is because of my job, just get moving and I'll explain later."  She hung up and smacked her forehead with her palm in frustration. "Three more to go," she mumbled.

All four conversations were variations on the same theme. By the middle of the second call her audience had silently passed out of the room to give her privacy. After the final push of the end button she flipped he phone closed, tossed it towards the center of the glass coffee table and slumped on the sofa with her head laying back on the armrest for the first moment of peace in hours. She felt the neighboring cushion sink under the weight of a visitor.

"At least you don't have to go through the trouble of faking calls to family," she said, and winced as she heard her own words. "I didn't mean it that way. Sorry, it's been ... a day."

"No, I had that coming," Ressler replied evenly. "You know Red will protect your family.

"They'll be safe, yes, and extremely pissed at me as well for bringing this down on them. Any news yet from Aram or Smith?" He shook his head and she sighed wearily. "How well stocked do you think the kitchen is? I'm hungry and I'm getting a caffeine withdrawal headache." She slipped off her work heels and padded barefoot across the expensive rugs back to the main corridor. Ressler barely kept up with her brisk pace as she peeked behind closed doors and around turns until she finally popped into the immense professional grade kitchen. Her search continued with pulling open cabinets and drawers, one after another, each one getting slammed shut harder and harder as her search proved futile.

El," Ressler said helplessly when he realized she was crying.

Don, is this our life now?" she exclaimed miserably. He came up behind her and gingerly rested his hands on her shoulders. In response she leaned back suddenly between his arms. She sobbed loudly as he embraced her tightly. It was a few minutes before she could speak again. "Our jobs are gone, we can't go back to our apartments. I don't know when I'm ever going to be able to see my family again after today. Are we going to be on the run forever like Red and Lizzie?"

"I don't know, El," he replied honestly. He paused to brush his lips against her hair. "I think its too soon to tell what is going to happen. But I promise you we'll do this together. As long as you want me around I'm not going to leave you."

"Oh, Donny," she murmured gratefully. "Of course I want you here with me.' She wriggled around in his grip so that she now was facing his way. Her reward was a soft tentative kiss on her lips. "Can you really forgive me for this last week?" she muttered softly after soundly kissing him back.

"Forgiven, forgotten," he replied softly. "This is a whole new start, El."

The second soft embarrassed cough from the doorway couldn't be ignored. Reluctantly they broke apart to regard Dembe lingering halfway through the doorway with his eyes politely turned towards the hall. "Raymond needs to see both of you immediately," he announced in the other direction, and having delivered his message rapidly fled the romantic scene.

"Might be news," Don mused. He refused to let go of her hand, even as they entered the living room where both Liz and Red were waiting. Red's eyes flickered over the sight to end up directly addressing Donald with a quick twinkle of approval. As fast as it happened it ended with a return to his somber expression.

"I have several items to report," Red stated. He motioned them to the small set of tables and chairs in the far corner of the room, that had been positioned to take advantage of the nice view of the artificial pond and fountain installed behind the home. To Elenna's bemusement several steaming to-go cups had already been positioned around the circumference of the table with their names sharpied on the side. "Agent Smith was finally able to relay a message through a mutual acquaintance of ours. He and Aram are both fine. We'll meet up again tomorrow afternoon in San Francisco."

"San Francisco?" Ressler repeated in confusion.

Red slid into the seat to his left. "The FBI has issued a bulletin seeking you and Agent Davidson as 'persons of interest' in this morning's disappearance of Agent Harold Cooper. I would not be able to guarantee your safety if you resurfaced in their view. So I would suggest that you no longer consider yourselves federal employees."

"So now we're unemployed bums, I guess," Elenna shrugged.

"I understood you to have already accepted a position on Agent Smith's team, Agent Davidson. I assume he still intends to make good on that offer." Red had his disapproving father gaze going again that made her squirm slightly in guilt.

"My transfer paperwork seems to have sort of blown up this morning, Red," she answered with a shrug. "And I was second guessing that decision anyway. I'm willing to entertain other offers before I make a final commitment."

His face remained unmoved, but the twitch of Liz's lips was unmistakably pleased. "We can't remain here much longer," Red continued. "In fact, the helicopter is on approach now. We've gathered up your family, Elenna. We'll stop for a period of time at their secured location in Pennsylvania, then continue on to spend the night in a lovely little backwoods cottage in Virginia I keep for times like these. We can discuss your options for the future there."

 

 

Within two hours they had arrived at yet another generic mansion in another ritzy new neighborhood, this time in the northernmost suburbs of Philadelphia. Elenna and Don had each spent years of their professional lives studying the ins and outs of Reddington's organization from a far distance, hoping for glimpses into its functioning. Now they were in the center of the tornado, and it was just as impressive as they had once surmised. Both of their apartments had already been hastily packed up and the moveable contents placed in what Lizzie cheerfully termed the criminal world's version of a U-Store. On arrival both Elenna and Don found suitcases already waiting for them, packed with correctly sized clothing and their favorite brands of toiletries, resting side by side on the bed of one of the larger guest suites.

A constant stream of men arrived and left on myriad of errands, some familiar faces but mostly new men hired on the local market. Elenna wondered what the neighbors thought of the activity, but Don pointed out that both houses visible from the front door were deserted. Liz was consulted and admitted that through several layers of dummy corps they owned every house in the development, thus ensuring complete privacy when needed for situations such as this. When confronted she also admitted that their organization had long ago developed contingency plans for the immediate extraction of their agent comrades that today had come into play.

While Red had quickly disappeared on arrival at the new safe house, Liz stuck close to her buddies. Having experienced the same feelings of disruption and change only a year ago, she was an excellent confidante and source of advice for the million little details that popped up along with that kind of momentous life change. That first half hour was spent on the little tasks of creating a new reality; both of them had found envelopes stashed within their suitcases with new IDs, credit cards and random bits of detritus that hinted they'd had happy busy lives in this false parallel universe. Both with some reluctance changed from their agent clothes to costumes reflecting their new identities; both put aside their FBI-issued weapons and accepted even more powerful firearms from Reddington supply.

When the men called in to report Agent Davidson's family was settled and ready for visitation, Elenna made the decision not to make the decision herself. She knocked gently on the door to the dining room, where Red and Dembe had set up temporary base camp during their stay. He motioned her in and Dembe out with the same nod.

"I don't know what to tell my family," she admitted as soon as they were alone. "How much danger do you think they're in?"

He answered immediately. "I've already spoken with Agent Smith on the matter. Neither of us believe it would be in the best interest of the Alliance to act openly against your family, as long as they don't publicly question the reasons they're given for your sudden disappearance. Either of us would be able to provide constant and invisible protective details to watch over them for the foreseeable future."

"I don't want to disrupt their lives any more than necessary," she replied reluctantly. "But I can't guarantee my dad will stay quiet."

"I understand your concern," he said. "Elenna, I think you need to be completely truthful with them. They haven't yet, but I imagine the government will use the same tactic with your sudden departure that they did with Lizzie. I think you're about to be outed as a member of my illicit gang."

"So I have to tell them everything, so they know not to talk." she sighed. "This is going to get ugly."

 

 

Liz was standing next to Elenna when the SUV arrived at the safe house. Elenna's wishes had overlapped with security concerns, resulting in the final decision that only her father would come to the house for a brief visit. Liz gave her friend a final comforting one armed hug as she watched her dad climb out of the backseat, bewildered and arguing with the impassive driver. "Here it goes," Elenna exhaled, and made sure she was the first to greet him at the door.

"Come in to the living room!" she ordered loudly as soon as she appeared in his view. For a wonder he complied, taking a seat on the couch as she claimed one of the high-backed chairs opposite. She could see a burly man planted right outside the large bay window behind him, speaking into the microphone on his vest shoulder, obviously planted as a visual reminder of the danger of their situation.

"Those aren't federal agents," her father stated point-blank and leveled his most parental gaze on his daughter.

"No, they're not," she agreed immediately. "But honestly, they're even better at their jobs than most feds I know. Okay, Dad," she huffed out a deep breath. "We don't have a lot of time for this, and there's a lot you have to understand before you leave. This is going to be horrible for both me and you, but I have to break some hard news you're not going to want to believe. So I thought hard about how to do this, and I think this is the best way. I'm going to bring someone into the room and introduce you. Please, Dad, listen to him before you freak out."

"Why are we in danger?" her father continued as if she hadn't spoken at all. "Who are these men? Where are we?"

"Dammit, Dad, listen!!" she barked back angrily. Shocked by her unprecedented outburst, he did. "Everything I've told you for the last year about my job and my life has been a series of lies. You're about to get the truth, so listen." She jumped up from the chair to knock lightly on the door as a cue for the guest to enter.

Elenna was followed back to her seat by a tall young man, who chose a seat close to hers. When she thought this wasn't visible to her father she took his hand in hers and squeezed tightly.

The younger man spoke first, after offering for display the badge he was carrying with him for the last time. "Mr. Davidson, I'm Special Agent Donald Ressler. I'm your daughter's partner. I understand than in your private conversations she referred to me as 'Lincoln'."

"Lincoln, yes," he mumbled in reply. The full name the young man had offered was somehow familiar. Bill's gaze darted over to his daughter for her input.

"I couldn't ever use Don's real name with you, Dad, because I knew at some point you'd recognize it, and realize what linked us together." She licked her lips. It was only a matter of following the associations now.

"The Reddington task force. That's right...you served on it before she joined. I remember her discussing your missions..." He blinked rapidly. "So this has some link to that man? Is he why you are in danger?"

"He's the reason we're now safe, Mr. Davidson," Don replied evenly. "Until this morning, Elenna and I worked at a kind of top secret facility we call a black site. It was a task force that served only one purpose, to process intel provided by our criminal informant Raymond Reddington."

"He turned informant?" Bill exclaimed in disbelief. He had been addicted to the Reddington story ever since his daughter had served on the search for the wanted criminal. He had nearly driven his family crazy by gorging on the continuing news coverage and generating theory after theory on everything from the reason for his crime spree to how to track him down. This was the one possibility that had never crossed his mind, but all of a sudden Elenna's odd looks during his rants made more sense. "So you'e been secretly working with him all this time?" he accused his daughter in more astonishment than anger so far.

She nodded in reply. "That agent that ran off with him...did you know her?" Bill was flabbergasted. Throughout her childhood, little El was the kind of girl who would confess her sins even before she got them finished. Unlike her brothers, she had never misbehaved, never skipped class, or attended the wrong kind of parties, or... unlike them never got caught, he now realized lamely.

"Agent Elizabeth Keen was our partner on the task force," Elenna confirmed. 

"Mr. Davidson," Ressler interrupted. "I'm sorry, I know this is a lot to take in, but we have very little time. This morning something happened at our office... as a result Elenna and I will need to go underground for an extended period of time. She will be unable to contact your or any member of your family."

"What happened?" Bill demanded wildly.

The door cracked open, and all three turned in surprise to view the unexpected arrival. "Please forgive my intrusion, Mr. Davidson," he exclaimed grandly as he swooped in.  "It is an honor to meet you, sir, though I wish the circumstances were very different. I am Raymond Reddington."

Red offered his hand in greeting to the beleaguered visitor. Bill was so besides himself he reached out in return for a polite handshake with the man he had belittled for years as a prime enemy of his nation. Red seated himself calmly on a nearby seat despite the wary looks of the agents and the open gaping of the guest. "I assume you've been told about my professional relationship with your daughter. You should be very proud of her.  Agent Davidson has served her nation admirably throughout her years of service. Unfortunately, rogue representatives of that same nation will shortly turn against her, publicly and scathingly. For her personal safety she must disappear, Mr. Davidson."

"Why?" Bill asked again sharply. "Please understand, Mr. Davidson, you shortly will be asked that question repeatedly, and for your own well-being and the rest of your family it is best you do not know the true answer." Red was as smooth as usual, implacable and perfect for deflecting her father's arguing. Elenna hadn't ever planned on this confrontation, but she had to admit, and Don confirmed with a nod, it was working out to be a good solution. "I freely admit that I am the reason these enemies have entered her life, and Donald's, so I fully accept the responsibility of protecting them both. I understand you know something of the legends that have risen around me in the popular press." Red smiled as the other man reflectively grimaced. "Then you will know that I am quite capable of sheltering them both. I promise you never need to worry about your daughter's safety while she's under my care."

Bill turned to his daughter, whose calm expression took away his last argument. Red pressed on with a warning. "Vile accusations against Elenna and Don will shortly be released to the press, likely similar to those lodged last year against Agent Keen. When you are approached for your response, Mr. Davidson, it is vital that you meekly accept their allegations. Do not fight for your daughter's reputation, or you will draw the wrath of our enemies upon yourself. You and the rest of your family will remain under constant protective supervision, provided by myself and other friends of your daughter. Allow them to do their jobs. If circumstances should change and an emergency arises, you may call any of these numbers for immediate aid." He handed a small business card across the open space between them. "Otherwise we will have no further contact."

Red rose to his feet again with his usual abrupt air of dismissal. "We will need to depart this house within a quarter of an hour. I can give the two of you that time for private conversation. Donald, we need to speak."

Ressler stopped his obedient departure in front of Bill, turned and faced the man directly. "Sir," he said quickly. "I've thought a lot about what I would say to you if I ever had the opportunity to meet you. I thought I never would have this chance, considering the way we lived undercover. But while we're here now, I'll take this chance, Mr. Davidson, and tell you I'm in love with your daughter."

Elenna and her father both startled at his announcement; even Red froze two steps from the doorway. Don continued, a little desperately as her father tried to decide how to respond to the sudden outburst from the stranger. "I don't have the same resources as Red or her other friends, but I know I'm the one who loves her the most, and I can stand here now in front of you and swear that I would do whatever it takes to keep her safe and bring her back to you again someday."

Both men turned to the daughter in question, who was smiling broadly underneath the hands that were rubbing her blushing cheeks. "Yeah, you can tell Mom and the guys I finally found myself a good one. I love him, too."

Bill Davidson didn't know what else to do but reply, "You obviously know Elenna far better than I do. If she trusts you, then so do I. But someday you owe me a very good explanation of how all of this came about."

"Agreed, sir," Don replied and offered his hand to seal the deal.

Red waited silently until the young man, now grinning sheepishly, rejoined him in the privacy of the hall. "I'm happy for you both," he said. "And you and Elenna will have a chance to spend some time together soon. But first we're going to have to separate from her and Lizzie for a little while. You and I have another appointment for tonight. Donald.  We're going to visit your birth parents."


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All of the members of the team are on the move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As much as I've truly loved the experience of putting this series here on Archive, the end is coming up soon. This series has inspired another storyline I've been working on concurrently for some time, a series of short books in which Congressman Paul Weyand secretly feeds leads about a massive political conspiracy to a small team of young FBI agents stationed in the backwaters of the Cincinnati field office. If all goes well my William Price book will be ready (and titled!) for release on Amazon on February 1st, and the first book of "The Dover Archive" series will be out July 1st. 
> 
> I own Elenna, and Smith, and William Price, and Congressman Paul Weyand, too. But I'd like to keep borrowing Red, Liz, Ressler, and Dembe for just a little while longer.

Liz allowed her friend fifteen minutes of meditative solitude after watching her father get whisked away by yet another generic SUV. She used this time to immerse herself in the series of departure chores in play around her that she usually ignored as part of the background of her vagabond life. First she yanked Dembe aside to inquire why he had remained behind with her instead of joining his friend on his mission. He quietly promised to explain to her the reasons why during their upcoming transcontinental flight and so she deferred her questioning on the matter. But she did insist on replacing him in the ongoing conversation Raymond had started with Agent Smith's team. She volleyed phone calls back and forth with an unidentified female voice to confirm details about their arrival and their living arrangements in the city. While in San Francisco, the stranger explained, Mr. Reddington had already agreed they would be placed into the protective custody of one of Smith's best teams, of whom she identified herself as team leader. After Liz confirmed this revelation with Dembe she grudgingly accepted the situation. Her hesitation was clearly conveyed through the phone line. Nonplussed, the woman on the other end again assured her she and her friend would be completely safe and sound in California, and wished her a comfortable journey west.

Elenna still didn't speak even after they had boarded the plane and were flying the highest, fastest route the pilot could manage that would still keep them out of the most heavily traveled and supervised airspace. She had chosen a window seat and kept her forehead pressed against the glass, earbuds in and cycling through her favorite playlist multiple times in a row. Liz passed her by to first focus on following through with her promised discussion with Dembe.

They took neighboring seats in the back of the main compartment and spoke in whispers. Dembe started by earnestly explaining all of the tasks Raymond had requested for him to accomplish by that evening. She listened quietly without argument or betraying her inner thoughts through any errant shudders or flinches. He didn't ask for her input or approval; when she sensed the times his own discomfort broke through his calm mask she pretended she didn't notice. His next duty was to explain what her share of the project would be; she remained calm for that as well, knowing it would be both foolish and unkind to blame the messenger. When both had enumerated their individual duties for the evening she simply smiled and thanked him as she always did when Dembe offered her his services. Then she escaped to a seat next to her friend bearing two large goblets of wine.

After Liz plunked down next to her, Elenna pulled out the earbuds and accepted her glass. She downed half of it before lowering it from her mouth to grip the stem nervously as she rested the cup in her lap. "What are they doing tonight?" she asked quietly.

"They're giving the Alliance one last opportunity to call things off before we act." Liz paced herself by stopping after two big sips of her drink, though her impulse was to down it quick and then three more just like it. But if Raymond's mission failed she was going to have to somehow keep her head on straight and do the job she had accepted. The two minutes of popping the cork and pouring drinks in the tiny airplane minibar had been long enough to argue down her queasiness at that thought with the pure simple rationality of the lack of other options. Now she had to talk her friend through the process as well.

"So the two of them are marching right into the enemy's headquarters to issue their ultimatum? So very Red," Elenna snorted with a thin layer of derision smeared over her palpable anxiety for the both of them. "And when has Res ever backed down from a fight? The two of them together are a real pair of cowboys, aren't they?"

"Its not just the two of them. Agent Smith joined the party as well," Liz explained reluctantly.

Elenna rolled her eyes. "Oh, of course he did. Smith wouldn't want to miss out on all of the testosterone-laden fun. And then they ship us poor defenseless womenfolk off to the far coast to hide. Sexist pigs." Elenna welcomed the anger embracing her like a warm coat in the vast cold frontier of an unpredictable future. "Dammit, Red knows I'm a better tactical agent than Don. If this is going to come down to a shooting battle, he should have taken me instead."

"They don't intend to be the ones bringing violence into this situation, El. That would be us." Liz leaned her head back and closed her eyes tightly, claiming one last moment of serenity before dousing her friend into the scheme. "We now know where the engineered bacteria are being stored. If they don't agree surrender the stock we're going in to take it. Agent Smith's people have teams of federal WMD specialists and the bureau's best SWAT teams on standby."

"You're planning far more than that, aren't you? What else, Liz?" Elenna's agent senses were still right on. Liz couldn't face her directly for the next part of her story. Instead she gazed towards the front of the plane that had come to feel something like homey after all of the time she had spent in its small compartment. "In addition, Dembe has the best assassins in the world for hire already on retainer waiting for us to call and give the final order. We know the names and current locations of several of their most prominent leaders, including... Alan Fitch. If the Alliance doesn't hand over the bacteria we will have them executed. "

Elenna's face paled to near translucence. It took her a minute of licking her lips and slow steady breaths before she could respond. "Lizzie.. did you just tell me there are plans in play to potentially assassinate the Vice President of the United States? No, I can't be a part of that. Whatever they're calling me on the news today, I don't care, I'm still a loyal American and I won't ever cross that line."

Lizzie had had the same sharp guttural reaction just fifteen minutes previously. When she turned to her friend the empathy in her eyes equalled the firm set of her chin. "The WMD team estimates that if the attack in Asheville goes forward the death toll could reach tens of thousands. Alan Fitch is one of the most important players in the Alliance. El, the day he decided to go through with these plans he became one of the worst traitors in American history," Liz repeated Raymond's words he used earlier with Dembe to convince him to join the plan. "Asheville, the future attacks that will come afterward, he'll be responsible for unimaginable numbers of deaths. None of us want to do this. I'm still hoping Raymond and Agent Smith can convince them to back down, but we have to do whatever it takes to protect the innocent people of that town." She paused, then decided to include the next part as well. "It's not just Finch. There are several famous names tied up with this scheme, names you never would have imagined caught up in this sort of thing."

Elenna did't reply for a long time. Liz couldn't get a feel for her mood, whether just angry or ready to turn them all in for traitors. Finally she asked, "Did Smith approve of that part of the plan?"

"Raymond didn't mention anything of his reaction. You know him best, El. What do you think?"

"I think I never knew him at all," Elenna said to the window. "I wonder if anyone ever has. I'll be honest, Liz. For most of my working life I thought Raymond Reddington was the most terrifying man alive. Now I know he's in at least third place. I'm pretty sure Agent Smith would pull the trigger himself on anyone he thinks has violated his personal line between right and wrong. Like Cooper..."

"Agent Cooper shot himself," Liz reminded her sharply. "He could have chosen to cooperate instead."

"Yeah, we even had a glass box all handy and ready to go." Elenna shrugged. "But we knew for sure he was guilty. I just can't help thinking how close Don came to getting killed or locked away in a black site forever just because that man got suspicious. If Red hadn't intervened..."

"The truth would have come out anyway," Liz declared optimistically. She studied her half-empty glass and fought off the temptation. "We've all got our share of guilt to carry. If Smith hadn't come to us with his intel, we'd still be in hiding from the Alliance, and nobody would be in a position to prevent the Asheville event. If this works we'll be saving a lot of lives, and that has to be the best reason to do anything."

Elenna leaned her head against the window in sudden fatigue. "When did we become the kind of people that make these kind of decisions? The Alliance didn't come this far to let us stop them. There will be other events. This is going to be a war."

"One we'd better win," Liz agreed. "Because now we're the only ones who can."

 

The departure from the safe house was extremely efficient. Elenna remained in the room with her father as long as possible, giving Don no chance to speak with her again before departure. Part of him didn't mind; the good feelings lingered from his impulsive proclamation and he couldn't imagine she would be in any way supportive of Red's new scheme. Liz obviously wasn't, but she kissed her fiance tenderly anyway and admonished him to show up in San Francisco the next day in one piece. 

When they exited the house and were standing on its extensive front steps, the series of SUVs waiting outside departed without them, leaving just simple red pick-up behind in the lot. To Ressler's wonder, without a word of explanation Red climbed in behind the steering wheel, futtering about with the rearview and seat adjustment until Ressler finally climbed in on the other side in mute compliance. Ressler had found on the shotgun seat a paper map folded back along a new set of creases revealing a yellow-highlighted travel route. He called out directions for the silent driver through what had once been a quiet rural area that had sprouted cheap housing and big box shops before the recession cut out that sort of rampant growth. He thought about questioning the choice of drivers, especially when they shot through several intersections several seconds after the yellow light was done and gone. But the determined look on Red's face didn't really invite conversation, so Ressler kept thoughts of valid driver's licenses to himself and just held on.

The radio had started up with the truck's engine blasting a country station. Ressler twisted the knobs in a search for a news broadcast, and heard his own name reported breathlessly on air as he tuned into a talk radio station. It was just as Red had predicted; he and Elenna were now the subjects of a massive manhunt. Without waiting for the details he pushed the radio knob off to silence the voices and turned to stare out the window instead. Red still offered no comments, only kept driving.

They didn't talk until they had finally reached their destination, a little executive airport that was struggling to survive along its new suburban neighbors. Ressler's eyes widened a little in horror when they strolled directly towards a little four-seater Cessna, but thankfully a pilot was waiting for them with most of his departure checklist already completed. Within minutes they were in the air heading east.

"There's a jet waiting for us in Camden," Red shouted over the roar of the engine. 

A jet was waiting for them in the general aviation area of the regional airport, along with a handful of armed men and a distinguished looking older gentleman Ressler recognized from past bureau briefings on organized crime. He hugged Red with enthusiasm and started chatting amiably. 

"Thanks again for loaning me your plane, Albert," Red was trying his best to back away from the exuberant mobster toward the jet stairs. Ressler stayed close with one eye at one times on all of the weapons now casually slung back over shoulders but still well within reach.

"Oh, Raymond, you owe me nothing. We're friends, right?"

"The best," Red assured him. Finally he was able to get them aboard and seated for departure. The jet wasn't as well equipped as his own, but he was able to procure reasonably good beers for himself and his companion once they reached level flight and were free to move about the cabin.

"So this is what its like," Ressler announced grimly. "Life on the run."

"This is one of the good parts, Donald. Much better than the times when fresh young G-man have their guns pointed at you," Red replied wearily. "But I won't drop any pointed comments about karma. Lizzie and Elenna will go with Dembe directly to California this afternoon via my jet. Agent Smith has promised to have some of his people meet them there and take them into protective custody until we can rejoin them tomorrow."

"And where will Agent Smith be?" Ressler asked suspiciously. 

"He'll meet us when we arrive in Rhode Island." He paused with sudden reluctance, but need made him swallow deeply and continue on. "Donald, I understand this has been a most difficult day for you already, but I'm going to ask you to make it even worse. I assume you've followed your birth father's political career?"

"Yeah," Ressler admitted. He had long surreptitiously followed his biological father's steady rise in politics. "He's running for President. Thankfully he's a long shot at best." With so many candidates in the field, his birth father blended in with the other also-rans at the bottom of the national polls.

"His position within the Alliance has risen as well. He's now an important member of the ruling committee. I feel he would be particularly well-suited to receive the message we are about to deliver in person. His current location has been a particular challenge for both Smith's and my organizations to track down. But I imagine you may know of some places he could go to hide."

"Yeah," Don agreed immediately. "My mother's family had a place on the ocean we went to 'get away from it all' sometimes when I was a kid. No one outside the family knew about it."

"Could you find the house again?" Red asked. "I know it's been quite a few years, Donald."

Ressler nodded confidently. "I know the town. I'll be able to find the house."

"Good. I'll let the pilot and Agent Smith know our destination." Red paused on the way to the front of the jet. "I will leave the decision to you whether to accompany us to the house for that conversation."

"I want to go," Ressler replied immediately. His half-smile leaned further to bitter than he had intended. "I'm done running from the past."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear readers, NSA, and past and present Vice Presidents:
> 
> This is a work of fiction - in real life I absolutely and utterly condemn any threat or act of violence against any representative of our government. Even in this fiction world, personally I would side with Elenna.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ultimatum is delvered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to go! I can't believe I finally got the timing right. This will end the week before the season starts.

After a few false starts Ressler was able to point out the correct home from a Google Earth image. This stretch of coast was dominated by summer homes of that strange set of 'stealth wealth' families, that lingered near the top of the lists of the one-percenters but whose names and faces were never recognized by the general public. The nearest town was tidy, quiet,and devoid of the usual tourist traps common to the other towns up and down the scenic highway. A casual visitor would mis-label it as another little downtown struggling to survive, if they didn't take the time to peak through the windows of the low-key shops and read the price tags of the items tastefully presented inside. There was so much money protecting the privacy of the part time residents that Smith had to call in a number of favors at Google to obtain the previously unobtainable photos they were studying over glasses of ice tea at a busy cafe one town away.

"This guy hasn't ranked high enough on the radar for Secret Service protection yet," Smith said, with a aside glance towards Ressler. He was still trying to process the story he had just been told about the ex-agent's real background. "He'll have private guards, I'm sure."

"My people can take care of them easily enough," Red countered. "My worry lies elsewhere. I imagine the local police take great interest in protecting this particular citizen."

"That's why they're going to be very busy with other concerns tonight," Smith explained. "By a lovely coincidence, in a tourist town just twenty minutes from here a very famous actor is about to be perp-walked past the cameras and charged for a variety of very naughty acts. Technically not their jurisdiction, but what two-bit townie cop can resist cruising over to that kind of crime scene? I kind of want to go."

"You'll be far too busy, Agent Smith," Red was struck yet again by how such a relatively young man could have risen so quickly to reach his rarified position within the government. All three had changed into casual wear for their afternoon scoping out the town; only for Smith did the ruse actually work. For all of the times he had teased Don over the years for his inability to completely erase his federalness during undercover missions, Red had to admit to himself he could never quite reach his A-game level when out of his usual suit and tie armor. Agent Smith, on the other hand, seemed just as comfortably proficient in his ancient UC Berkeley t-shirt and cargo shorts. Lizzie had told him once that he had the gift to be at home in all sorts of situations, but now Red was impressed by Smith's true mastery of that skill. 

As Smith flirted back and forth with the server Red took the opportunity to check in with his other companion. Don eyed Red back with numerous unspoken comments flashing back from his tepid expression. He had done his best to keep addressing Agent Smith as professionally as possible, even after the man had inquired after Elenna's well-being with genuine concern. Red had explained his birth connection with their target family while Don was out of the room, so he hadn't observed his immediate reaction to the news, but the flashes of distrust were still being emitted regularly in his direction. Only the mission mattered, Ressler kept telling himself. He could happily rid himself of Agent Smith's company as soon as they were finished with their work tonight. 

As a way to force his brain on to another track, Ressler jumped up from the table with a murmured excuse me and abruptly departed from their sidewalk cafe. He ambled a block north along the main commercial street to lose himself in the crowds and the past. Don was surprised by the clarity of the memories that had flooded back, but they had been well-preserved, having been left untouched so long in the deepest recesses of his mind. The family owned an even nicer summer home closer to the city, but every other summer or so for a change they would spend a few weeks here. He remembered those visits as particularly good times, when his normally workaholic father had instead spent his days relaxed and finally available to his son. It was here in their beach house pool that he had his first swimming lessons with his father. He had loved those hours; it was the only time he felt he had held more than a sliver of his father's attention, and he had a natural affinity for the water. After he had fled it was years before he could enter a pool without a corresponding flood of painful emotions; he had told Elenna that he agreed with her intense dislike of swimming and other water sports. Don turned in the direction of the waterfront; the beach wasn't in view but the salty wind brought in reminders of it. Maybe, he hoped, after today's work he would be able to go back into the waves again. He frowned as his recollections faded and modern day reality reasserted itself by Red's sudden presence at his side. 

"Yeah, I can find the way to the right house via the water," he answered Red's last question with certainty. "The estate stretches all the way from the beachfront to the inter-coastal waterway. There's a public dock nearby, and from there you can follow the water's edge up to the property boundary."

That method had worked many times during his teen years to sneak in past curfew, and twenty years later was still effective. Four hours later the three of them had reached the thin strip of sand separating the rolling lawn from the ocean and stared up at the brightly lit home still several hundred yards away. "I would have expected much better security," Red commented. His people had cut out all of the security feeds of the neighboring cottages, but had left that home's systems undisturbed. They had assumed they would be spotted as soon as they reached the property; at that point they intended to be escorted inside by guards where at least one of their names would trigger a personal visit from the homeowner. But no guards had come. It wasn't until they had marched up to the very edge of the extensive outdoor living areas that anyone seemed to notice they had come. An older woman was sitting alone in one of the downstairs public rooms completely absorbed by her phone. Their movements must have triggered her response; she glanced up sharply then called out loudly in evident fear of the strangers outside her home. Within minutes two guards bolted around the side of the house towards them.

"Its about time you showed up," Red stated calmly to the men relishing firearms and fierce expressions. He held both hands up, currently empty but with weapons hidden in easy reach if needed. "Really, I would expect much better protective services for a family of this stature. I urgently need to speak to the Congressman."

"Not happening, buddy," one of the guards spun him around as if he intended to cuff him. Instead within seconds he found himself shoved against the side of the house with the nose of Red's favorite Glock pressed against the back of his head. 

"I assure you, he would be quite interested in meeting with us," Red continued in the same assured tone. He added over his shoulder, "Why don't you go track down the Congressman right now and tell him Raymond Reddington has come to have a conversation? He'll be very glad you did." The other guard didn't argue; he had already taken a couple steps towards the house when the weapon had suddenly appeared. Within minutes an older man in sweat pants and sweat-drenched t-shirt padded barefoot out of the French doors and stared at the one visitor he immediately recognized from the day's never-ending media coverage. 

"What the hell are you doing here? Are you insane? I could have half of the FBI here in minutes."

Red edged in front of his companion to force the conversation back his way. "I don't know if that would be a good idea on your part, Congressman. Considering which of their agents are already here. Why don't you invite us in, offer us drinks, and we'll explain our purpose in inviting ourselves to your premises."

"That would be rather foolish," the man stated blankly, but he motioned half-heartedly to the doorway as he barked an order at the guards. They obediently took up positions on either side of the door.

Don swallowed deeply as he followed behind the other men. He had prepared himself with emphatic reminders that the estate would have changed to become far different than he remembered, but it wasn't. He had watched his father on the news often enough that the sight of him wasn't nearly as overwhelming as all of the little knickknacks and mementos scattered around the rooms they passed through. They ended up in the same tiny room his father had always used as a private office. As a child he had never been inside; it had been strictly off limits to both he and his mother. It was far more bland than he had imagined as a little boy. 

"What do you want?" the Congressman demanded. His eyes slid over Ressler and he tightened instinctively at the coming recognition. But instead his gaze ended on Red.

Without being asked, Red seated himself in one of the guest chairs, with his legs crossed and smiling. "Scotch on the rocks. And for you to pass on a warning to the men holding your leash. All deals are off. If you don't hand over the nasty little bugs you're hoarding in Asheville, we'll take them from you. And that will just be the beginning of your coming tribulations."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," the Congressman snapped back with nearly the right touch of righteousness. 

"Are you really going to waste our time with the innocence spiel?" Smith jumped in to the conversation with a frustrated howl of complaint. He had chosen to avoid the seating area where the other men had settled to wander around the room. He left off his close inspection of the Congressman's brag wall of degrees and awards to instead address the man directly. "I'm going to get so bored reciting all of the evidence we have against you. Can we skip to the part where you take our deal to the Alliance and come back with a useful answer?"

"What is the Alliance?" the Congressman demanded instead, waving his hands in exaggerated bewilderment. "What evidence? Who are you to come in here and make these kinds of accusations? Another traitor like that one?" he demanded as he motioned to Red.

Smith shrugged and let a faint smile ghost quickly across his expression. "I can see your point now, Mr. Reddington, sometimes it is a convenience to be easily recognizable. I know Red's been on your radar for a long time as a potential concern. Well, I'm the problem you never saw coming. I'm Special Agent David Smith. Maybe my name rings a bell or two?"

It did. The Congressman's eyes flickered with a suddenly much higher level of concern. "Why would you be associating with this kind of criminal?"

"Well, it seems that Mr. Reddington and I have overlapping interests in preventing massive civilian casualties," Smith replied. 

Red continued, "Are you ready to talk now, or do you need further evidence of our bone fides?"

The Congressman listened in morose silence as Red explained what exactly would happen if the bacteria weren't transferred immediately to the federal teams on standby. His response was immediate and emphatic. "This will gain you nothing in the long run. You don't know how many people we have embedded in so many positions of power across the world. Even the two of you together are insignificant compared to the forces we can muster. We will succeed." The Congressman had spent part of nearly every day for the last two months making campaign speeches, so his blustering optimistic cadence came easily enough to him now. He even paused at the end as if he expected his audience was about to rise in cheers.

"Promises, promises," Red rose from his seat with one last dismissive wave of his hand. "Congressman, you have two hours in which to complete the transfer." 

Smith stopped with one foot outside the doorway. "If you are foolish enough to try to delay our departure," he explained with the patient tone he would use on little kids if he ever saw any, "details of all of those special campaign funding agreements you've been making on the side will suddenly end up in Anderson Cooper's inbox. I'll bet the Alliance leadership will be very unhappy when those little unapproved indiscretions become breaking news. Good night."

But he paused, and Red whirled around in concern, when they realized Don had remained locked in place in front of the desk. The Congressman looked him up and down impatiently. "What, are you going to threaten me too?"

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised you don't recognize me," he said finally. He stared directly in the blue eyes whose shade perfectly matched his own. "It's not like you ever spent a lot of time looking at me. I always wished I had a brother or sister so there'd be someone else around the house to talk to instead."

The Congressman finally focused his full attention on his last visitor, and his head slanted this way and that, peering at his face and trying to peel off twenty years of aging. "No, you're dead," he stated quietly, dispassionately. "That's why you never came back home. You died."

"I did," Don replied just as calmly. He could feel Red's presence just steps away and it was helpful. "After I left I was dead for a while. But, you see, then I came back to life as Donald Ressler. I worked hard for a long time to built a good life for myself that didn't depend on being lucky enough to be born with a spot on the right list."

The Congressman chose a reproachful tone to respond. "You betrayed your own family. You told these ..."

'Yeah, that intel came from me," Don agreed. "But I don't give a crap what a DNA test would say, you're not family to me. I have people I care about, who I consider my family now, and one of your people nearly got them killed today. I came here tonight because I wanted you to know I plan to make your sorry ass cult pay for that and any one else who gets hurt because of your crazy ideas."

"Come, Donald, time to go," Red ordered softly after the younger man's voice had finally faded away. He gently tugged on his arm to pull him away from his father's bewildered, slightly wounded stare.

"Two hours," Smith repeated sharply and filed out behind the other men. The guards were waiting outside the room but at a sharp command from the Congressmen stayed back and allowed the intruders to exit the same way they had come in. 

Don was a stoic as his reputation for most of the journey, flustering only once as a woman's voice called out with a mix of trepidation and anger, asking her husband who had come into the home. Red's hand remained on his shoulder as a silent comfort the entire trip through the yard back down to the narrow slice of beach. They found the place where they had stashed their phones and both Red and Smith quickly scrolled through their inbox messages.

"What now?" Don asked as they reached the compact yacht they had rented for their adventures. They had each stashed onboard changes of clothes from the dark pants and t-shirts of their illicit night travels to outfits better reflecting the clientele of the classy bar that neighbored the boat slip.

Smith replied first. "Now we catch a plane," he said with some relief. "We have some people to catch up with in California. Delta Flight 357 out of Providence leaves in two hours, so we better get moving that way."

"Public transportation, Agent Smith? Some of us have famous faces," Red was honestly confused, until Smith shrugged with a slightly amused grin.

"It would be a public flight if anyone else were flying on it too. We'll be the only folks on board. Delta owes me a couple of favors."

"I won't ask why," Red had to shake his head at the sheer audacity. He really didn't like his sudden realization that he was starting to kind of like Agent Smith. 

"What about the timeframe?" Don asked. They simply abandoned the boat to meet up with some of Red's crew in the bar's parking lot. Because of the size of their party, and because it wouldn't be ostentatious in this location, he had had his men bring a stretched SUV to pick them up and make the hour's drive to the airport. 

"Our share in this plot is over, Donald," Red answered wearily. Now that his tasks for the night were done his mind was free to float back to his favorite mental subject. At this point Lizzie should have already arrived in California and be nestled away somewhere where no repercussions for tonight's acts would be able to find her. "Whatever the Alliance chooses to do, the next acts in this process are the responsibility of our partners out west."


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Agent Smith reveals a secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, sigh... this isn't the last chapter... the very last one will be posted next Tuesday so we're wrapped up before the first episode airs.
> 
> Time for my very last legal ownership disclaimer ever!  
> Agents Davidson, Smith, and Sands belong to me - the others are about to boxed up neatly and returned back home again.

Traveling west still felt like a minor imitation of time travel, Elenna remarked when she caught the first sight of the Pacific Ocean outside of her window. Despite their seemingly endless journey on board, thanks to the time zone skips they were arriving only a few hours after departing Philadelphia, with the sun still high in the sky irregardless of their internal clocks insisting surety it was evening by now. The jet carefully skirted around the edge of the northernmost sprawl, passing over several small communities before dropping down into final approach. The plane rolled to a stop at the end of the only runway at some smallish private airport between two towns, far out of controlled airspace and presumably into the realm of someone on Raymond's extensive payoff list. 

But this time the cars that were parked on the tarmac and clearly waiting for them were federal models with official plates and men with guns and ear pieces standing guard nearby. When the pilot freaked and warned her over the intercom that they wouldn't have enough fuel to take off again and reach a known harbor, Liz glanced towards Elenna and Dembe, and they both shrugged back with just as much uncertainty. But the person that exited the back of one of the black SUVs wildly waved her arms with a phone displayed prominently in one of her hands. She made a show out of dialing, and a minute later Liz's cell buzzed an incoming call.

"It's me out here," said the same voice from their earlier conversations. "Smith said if you still hesitated to trust me, to tell Elenna the Jefferson was I quote 'a very nice hotel'."

"Yeah, I suppose it was," she sighed when Liz relayed the message. "She's legit." 

After so many hours cooped up in the jet, it felt so good to be able to take more than a few steps at a time in a given direction. The three passengers each used extra long strides on the journey from the plane stairs towards the waiting entourage. The woman greeted them at the halfway point with a smile and her hand reaching out first to Liz.

"Welcome to California. I'm Agent Tina Sands," she said with a cheerful air. She was within a few years of their ages, petite and graceful, with long brown hair worn back in a simple pony tail.  
"Can I see your identification badge, Agent Davidson? Please hand my companion here any weapons you are carrying as well. We'll hold them for you until you're cleared on site." Elenna had brought both of her old work badge and the new ID Red had provided; she willingly passed over both as well as her weapons while shoving her growing skepticism about this new partnership into the back of her mind. Dembe was much harder to convince to cooperate, but he finally agreed after Liz's repeated her request. 

Liz had her burner phone in gripped tightly in her palm as soon as she was seated in the backseat of the car, eager to dial Raymond and get an update on his progress. But as soon as the car engine started up, her fully charged phone unexpectedly expired. She jerked her head up to see Tina turned around and watching expectantly.

"Only our shielded equipment will function either in here or at the site," she explained. "Relax, we'll make contact with the rest of the team shortly, I promise."

"We have less than an hour before the warning time elapses," Liz wasn't about to accept the stranger's deflection with such a critical operation still hanging over her head. "I still have arrangements I need to complete within my organization." 

Tina was silent for a moment, comparing her instincts with Smith's recent orders, then reluctantly offered her own mobile for the disgraced ex-agent to borrow. "Please be quick. We'll need to switch off for complete signal silence within the next twenty minutes. It's standard protocol when traveling to the site." 

"What site?" Elenna asked suspiciously. Liz ignored them both to hurriedly dial in the first of her planned calls. She huddled back into the corner of her seat, using Dembe as a shield against either interruptions or eavesdropping from the other passengers.

Tina's expression flipped from confused to perturbed. "Smith didn't brief you about the site?"

Elenna rolled her eyes as her exhaustion and exasperation from her horrendous day finally got the better of her self-control. "Apparently not. Agent Sands, I don't know who you are or how much you know about what is going on, but I'll tell you that we're dealing with some serious national security shit right now, and we really don't need to add in all of this overblown cloak and dagger charade on top of our myriad of issues. You know Smith is responsible for bringing us here, and you must trust him, right? So lose the security jitters and just tell me where the hell we're going and why."

To her surprise Tina laughed out loud in reply. "I'm sorry, nothing personal, its just after all of these years Smith still astounds me with his inability to tell anyone the whole truth about anything. I've been in the loop on his targeting the Alliance for months, I know that they are the reason Smith first went out to Washington and contacted you. But there isn't much more I can tell you about tonight's destination. I know it is a new black site he's taken charge of recently, but I don't know anything specific about its operations or goals." She paused, then shrugged with resignation. "If you're going to be working with Smith you should probably learn now that he's really awful about sharing useful intel. For example, I have no idea how numbers four and five on the wanted list would have anything to do with this."

Elenna glanced towards her friend, who was pointedly ignoring the conversation and her sudden inclusion in it. "I hope there's going to be a show and tell at some point to catch us all up on each other's stories," she replied tiredly. "And I'm sure that will be an interesting little powwow."

After this the conversation level in the car fell muted, with only quick practical exchanges between Tina and the driver. It had been a long time since Liz hadn't felt clasped in the protective embrace of the vast Reddington network. Dembe was nearby and a solace, but clearly the young woman in the shotgun seat was in control of her destiny now. It was odd, distasteful, to be forced to rely on not only a stranger, but Agent Smith's actions to keep her protected from their enemies. 

Her calls had not been as helpful as she would have liked to appease her concerns, but they had given her ten minutes of feeling some control over her future. Once she hung up and returned the phone to its owner, Liz's mind returned again to the sword hanging over their heads. With her phone dead she had to rely on the clock in the dash of the car to tell her she now had twenty-two minutes before she had to confirm the orders to murder a dozen prominent leaders. Suddenly she was irrationally and uncontrollably angry at Raymond, for placing her in this impossible position. This should be him making the call, she ranted internally. He wouldn't have a problem in the world making the call; she had stood by and watched him kill several people in cold blood. But as soon as the fury flared up it collapsed again into an equally strong burst of pity. She knew something of his struggles with escaping the evil deeds of his past. Once when he was haggling through a deal that in the past he would have solved with a well-timed bomb, he had wearily told her that he was afraid to relapse back just once to his old methods because every relapse made the next one just that much more easy and resisting just that much harder. He had worked so hard to draw this new shining line between morally allowable acts and not; however justifiable these assassinations could be made to seem, for him it would wiping away that line, and she couldn't allow her squeamishness about making the call cost him that effort. So this was going to have to fall on her.

Tina spoke up again. "We'll reach the site in about forty minutes. Past the deadline, I know, but Smith wanted everyone in secured locations before we put your plans into play. Just be ready to do your part once we arrive."

The view during the last twenty minutes of the drive was fascinating enough to pull the new arrivals out of their pre-game jitters to watch closely out of their windows. They had left the freeway some time ago for a series of nice old-fashioned towns and what they had both written off as touristy wineries. Those had dissipated, and the fields became less and less scenic and more loaded with more practical crops. Finally they reached an area of foothills covered by thicker and thicker knots of woods, which in the last few minutes had become real undisturbed forests. The road suddenly turned to dirt, then suddenly ended at a razorwire-topped fence decorated with a variety of unfriendly warning signs. 

Tina climbed out of the passenger seat and motioned for the other passengers to follow her. She traced the fence for a few feet away from the road into the undergrowth and picked up a battered metal container she found half-hidden in the weeds. "Leave all of your electronics in here," she instructed as she hefted it for them to see. "Anything that goes past the gate gets permanently fried."

While Dembe delivered their phones for them, Liz and Elenna took a moment to look around study the lay of the land. As Elenna could tell as she peeked through the fence, there were no buildings or any signs of human occupation visible in the thick forest. "Are we chasing the Alliance or Bigfoot?" she whispered to Liz. Then she read the biggest of the signs and huffed in exasperation. "Oh, really? This land is the private property of Maker Technology. That's William Price's company. Small world, huh?" she announced drily.

When the car engine started back up, both women caught sight at the same time of Dembe waving good-bye beside the open back seat door. Tina put out her hand to stop Liz from barging back to him. Liz loudly demanded to know what was going on. "From this point on only those of us with full clearance can go forward. There are snipers in the woods who'll take out anyone who isn't on the approved list."

"This is best," Dembe called out to his friend with equanimity. "Raymond will explain why. I will see you again shortly, Elizabeth."

"This way," Tina motioned, as they finished their leave-taking. Far off to the right of the road and out of view of anyone who somehow managed to get this far, there was a passageway chopped through the fence that looked like the casual effort of teens looking for a party spot. Instead of a skipper's nest, they found just twenty feet in from the fence a incongruous little utility shed with a simple five dollar lock on the handle. Inside this contained just an old fashioned phone hanging on the wall, which Tina promptly took up and announced into the mouthpiece a long string of unrelated words. In response the entire floor of the little shed slid back to reveal a brand new metal spiral staircase descending into the ground.

"Very William Price," Elenna announced with bemusement as they followed their guide down the winding stairs towards their destination. "That man has a real thing for underground bunkers."

The staircases ended in the middle of a pristine office environment so similar to the Post Office war room that both Elenna and Liz were momentarily taken aback. They both switched to wide smiles though when they recognized one man half-hidden behind a bank of computer screens. Aram responded to their enthusiastic greetings with first one hug than another. "I got here a few hours ago," he answered Liz's first question, "and I'm fine". He answered Elenna next, "This place is utterly fantastic! I mean, not just next gen tech, its like freaky beyond tomorrow stuff. I knew Agent Smith was connected, but man..." He cut himself off when Agent Sands approached with a paused expression, as if she had no idea what to feel at her news.

"The deadline passed fifteen minutes ago. Five minutes ago our SWAT team received contact from the targets," she said quietly. "They say they want to deal."

"I'll contact my people. We'll stay on standby just in case," Liz countered. But the relief flooded her expression anyway, and was mirrored in the federal agent's as well. 

Tina nodded. "Smith and company are about half an hour out. He wants us all assembled and ready to talk when he arrives. Time for your powwow, Agent Davidson."

 

As so often happened when they met up in public places, Liz could hear Raymond's approach long before she could see him. She and Elenna had grabbed a quick meal in the facility's tiny but stellar cafeteria before following the signs posted on the corridor walls towards the main conference room. From their padded leather seats across from the door they could follow his process towards them by his vociferous greetings of Aram. He entered the room with his arm still wrapped around the young agent's shoulder to freeze in exhilarated wonder at the sight of Lizzie safe and smiling back at him. Office decorum was completely forgotten as he accepted her flying into his arms with exclamations of joy. 

Ressler was five steps behind and much more muted in his greetings. So Elenna slid up next to him with a mischievous smile. "Hey, stranger, new in town?" For a long moment he could only fix her in his gaze with wonder that after all of that she would still be here waiting for him. A cough from the front of the room derailed his plan to follow up with kisses and questions about her afternoon. Smith was now at the podium that served as both a media station for the wall screen behind him, and for a place to lean comfortably on his elbows as he waited for the group to settle. 

"Lets get going, folks," he suggested amiably. He waited until all of them had taken seated positions around the table and were watching him with varying degrees of fatigue and curiosity. "We've got some ground to cover today. Well, underground I guess, for those of you new arrivals who may not have noticed our negative altitude. Welcome to Operational Task Force Rectify. That's our official US government designation. Personally, I wanted to call us the Mole People thanks to our tunnel dwelling, but Tina here wouldn't let me put that on the letterhead." He grinned down at his longtime partner, who to his amusement only arched an eyebrow in silent rebuke. 

He had their attention, so it was time to get to the point. "We're still waiting on one of our team members, but he's already well aware of what I'm about to tell you. Our primary duty is to detect, monitor and halt Alliance activity within the realm of this nation's influence and interests. In order to do this we've been provided with this top of the line facility, an extremely generous budget as well as a wealth of military, tactical, and intelligence support. Any other items you find you need will be provided, within reason of course, Mr. Reddington, no more Hellfire missiles for you."

"Well, you take all the fun right out of it, Agent Smith," he replied evenly. 

"That's me, Captain No-Fun," Smith nodded somberly. "Next, as the designated leadership team, all of us will for now on commit our full mental resources to this task force, so all other jobs, duties, and what passed for your personal life will have to be put on hold for the foreseeable future. All of us will live here on site in the very nicely appointed living quarters, traveling off site only when needed for the mission. Since most of you are now highly sought criminals, we didn't think that would be a problem for you." 

The response to this was a stunned silence, followed by either grudging acceptance or in Tina's case barely hidden anger. She flashed Smith a look that every other agent in the room recognized as the 'I'm going to kill you later in private, partner' glare they had all worn or received at some time or another. It only took a minute of rational thought for all of them to realize that with their remote location, commuting back and forth to the site would be a ridiculous waste of time and effort, and damage the extraordinary methods that were in play to keep the site secured. So each of them verbally agreed in turn to make the facility their new home for a while. 

Smith couldn't resist a quick study of the room and its unique range of inhabitants, coming to rest on Tina and her dubious return stare. He hid his sudden grin as he imagined her cynical thoughts; after more than a decade together as friends and coworkers that was easy enough. Politics made strange bedfellows, he would quote at her at the inevitable moment when she caught him alone and let loose. It would be easier to convince her this would work if he believed it himself, he allowed in the privacy of his thoughts. This was definitely not a group he would confine to tight spaces under any normal circumstances. Tina had to be chafing at the idea of working with the couple she still thought of as America's worst criminals. Elenna was quiet and resigned, but both Ressler and Liz weren't making any attempts to hide their continuing personal dislike for him. But, he thought as optimistically as always, they were all adults and they could make themselves get along for the sake of the job.

Red interrupted his stream of thoughts. "So I am to understand this team exists as a legitimate entity within the American government? Under whose authority?"

A different voice answered, one that caused each agent's head to whirl around in wonder. "Mine. I hope that Agents Davidson and Ressler will agree to remain federal employees despite the abuse that will still be heaped publicly on their names, and you and Ms. Keen will accept new immunity deals." Attorney General Tom Connelly was brightly smiling, just as he always did in all of his public appearances. As one TV commenter had described, it make him look like Santa Claus' happier younger brother. He joined Smith at the front of the table. "I'm sorry I'm so late, but the Capital was in a total uproar today. You seem surprised to see me, Mr. Reddington. Did you think the entire administration was in cahoots?"

"On my bad days, yes," he answered honestly.

The AG sook his head in sympathy. "It's a shame we didn't know what secrets we were both hiding, Mr. Reddington, perhaps the previous task force would have functioned much better. I was invited last year to join the Alliance. I accepted, played along, let them use their connections to propel me into a useful position, and waited for the right time and the right company to ... what should I say, go rogue? I'm the one who fed Agent Smith documentation about their plans. He found you, and off we went," he concluded cheerfully. 

"Is there anyone else we can trust?" Red asked. "You must know the Alliance has their loyal followers embedded throughout the government. Frankly, I don't know how much I can bring myself to trust you." Smith and Connelly eyed each other and Connelly laughed good-naturedly.

"Mr. Reddington, how sad that you thought you were all alone in your vendetta! Yes, the Alliance is numerous and powerful, but there are still many people in powerful positions that find their goals and means abhorrent. With the addition of your illicit connections, we have a good number of allies we can rely on."

Smith interjected, "No one is saying that taking down the Alliance is going to be easy, but it can be done, and we're the ones who are going to do it."

Connelly was about to speak again, when the door of the conference room flew open and a young agent burst in, eyes wide with both the fear he brought with him and of the people he just interrupted. Tina intercepted him with a frown, that after a few whispers from him turned into her own strangled cry of misery.

Smith immediately hustled to her side, cradling her in his arms as he whispered comfort in her ear. At her reply his own shoulders slumped. He allowed himself several deep breaths before turning back to the group. "They gave us the bacteria as promised, and so we called off our response. A few minutes ago the press reported outbreaks of sudden and deadly illnesses appearing in Madison, Wisconsin and Ocala, Florida. The CDC suspects a new bacterial infection is to blame in both locations."

"They hit two other cities instead," Red leaned back in his seat with his eyes clenched. "Damn them."

Tina interrupted her stream of commands to the young agent to inform her boss over her shoulder, "I'm sending the bioteams now. I'll go with them to get onsite intel."

"I"m going with you," Elenna announced with equal parts weariness and determination. "Red, you know some germ guys, right? We might need the extra help."

"I'll have them meet you in Ocala. Donald and I can chat up a few people in Madison."

Aram had been silent and completely overwhelmed by the flood of new information that had nearly drowned him today, but now he saw his opening. "Agent Smith, if I can get access to the CDC computer network, I can maybe trace back the infections to their initial locations."

"Go for it," Smith encouraged. "Agent Keen, I could use your assistance here. Our men in Asheville are bringing back a couple of stray Alliance guys that maybe can be convinced to spill a secret or two."

Liz nodded in compliance and rose from her seat to join the suddenly frantic levels of purposeful activity. Old friends and new acquaintances bumped into each other as they maneuvered around the room and formulated plans and schemes. All of their despair at the disheartening news had transformed into raw energy funneled into this newest battle of their war. 

AG Connelly watched from the position he had taken in the far corner, out of their way and currently out of their thoughts. But as always they were topmost in his. Somehow, he contemplated with great contentment, his long term plan had just come together. He had built the team that was going to save the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted Connelly to be a good guy. I liked him. He was funny. Why couldn't she have shot Tom Keen instead? Or turned him into a self-destructive cyberman? (Sorry, just binged last season of Who and I'm thinking in crossovers ... Madelene Pratt + Tardis = Missy)


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for a wedding!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. I can't believe its done!
> 
> It has been just over a year since I started this series- so much has happened and it has been an amazing journey. Thank you so much for letting me tell you this story!! Your comments and kudos have been so inspiring for me; the new books would have never have happened without your kindness and encouragement. I'm going to miss you all!!
> 
> Dear Bokenkamp and company: I am returning Red, Liz, Aram and Res to you, and thank you sincerely for the loan of these fabulous characters. Please treat them well this coming season.

If planning a wedding was a difficult chore before, the challenges grew exponentially once the arrangements had to be made from a secret underground bunker. Of course life was now a lot more difficult for all of them. Containing the attacks in Ocala and Madison took all of the combined talents, resources and superhuman efforts of the members of the new task force, but they managed to keep the loss of life down to hundreds instead of the thousands they had feared at first. Even as new victims of the bioagent were being identified and treated, their counterattack had been launched and judged mostly successful. Within a week of the identification of the first cases, Vice President Fitch became ex-Vice President Fitch for reasons never completely understood by most of the press and public. The public also never learned that the 'terrorist cyberattacks' against several large banks and the offices of several prominent Senators were launched by a quiet young federal agent working forty-eight hours straight in his brand new and already disheveled computer lab. The public were completely unaware of the illicit organizations that acted in concert with the agent by sending teams of criminals to eliminate a number of the illegal entities financially propping up the Alliance. They stabbed the Alliance repeatedly and effectively, but not with mortal wounds. But the task force bought itself some time to breathe, to unpack in its new home and get situated before the next wave they knew would be coming.

The Hole, as their new home was quickly and somewhat affectionately dubbed, was a remarkably efficient design. For its small size it still offered all of the important amenities, from an excellent chef for their common meals in the cafeteria to generously sized private apartments for when they needed a break from each other. Red and Liz shared an apartment of course; and no one commented publicly at least when after the first few weeks Elenna and Don defaulted down to one as their home base as well. Their new companions were the odd ones out at first, but living together 24/7 quickly breaks the ice between strangers, and Tina soon moved past her prejudices against her criminal team mates and was welcomed as a new friend and compatriot by all. Smith and Don remained cordial and respectful, and Elenna somehow always found reasons to never remain long in a room alone with Smith. For such a wildly eccentric group they managed to get along quite well in their tight living arrangements.

Red did undertake several business trips out of their new home and so was able to sneak in a few hours here or there on completing wedding tasks. He was also able to remain in near constant contact with Dembe, who graciously accepted the extra duties of best man on top of now running the day to day work of the vast Reddington operation. Red's only remaining nuptial concern was the maid of honor. He wondered some days incredulously how in such a relatively tiny facility she could manage to run and hide from him the moment she sensed a wedding related topic was on his mind. He had still no idea what she planned to wear, or even if she intended to show up at all. Lizzie grudgingly relayed some of their discussion on the flight to Asheville, and added that since then she hadn't been able to bring up wedding talk with her friend without insistent deflection towards more neutral topics.  But even with that wild card, one week out from the event Red was reasonably sure everything was going to well. One lingering concern was the Alliance; he couldn't rule out them causing a new event that would jeopardize their plans, though Tina and Smith both offered to stay behind at the Hole to keep on top of any developments.

Two days before the wedding the group dispersed in pairs and trios to travel via different untraceable modes of transportation. The next day, after several random worldwide layovers they reassembled again in Cuba as members of the wedding party and their most valued guests. The groom's superstitions flared again and forced the bride and her maid of honor to stay in a safe house on the opposite side of town from the groom for their last night of singledom. The bachelor party was epic in scale, involving numerous restaurants, bars, a couple of friendly arms dealers, and news coverage the next day of a strange black fedora found plunked on top of a revered and well guarded statue of Che Guevara in the midst of the capital's grounds.

The morning of the wedding dawned early for Liz with the arrival of the Dress in the protective grasp of its creators, who were insistent that no one else could manage buttoning and zipping it into position in way that would meet their exacting standards. Luckily, Mr. Kaplan arrived within moments of the entourage and took command. Monsieur didn't make a peep under her watchful gaze, and soon enough the bride was fully dressed and bringing tears and joyful exclamations from all of her observers. The sight of Elenna and Mr. Kaplan both crying and clinging to each other was far too much for Liz. Trying to protect her eye makeup from her own sudden upwelling of feelings, the bride escaped the emotional scene by racing back to the sanctuary of her bedroom. There to her wonder she found a sealed envelope resting next to her phone, addressed in familiar beloved scarlet ink.

Dearest, she read on the pages inside,

 

_Dearest,_

_As I write this it is evening and I am sitting alone by a fire, far from you in space but forever embracing you in my heart. Tomorrow we start a journey together, and I am beside myself with anticipation waiting for the sun to rise and our future to begin._

_I can't help but recall my last letter to you, written under such different circumstances. Then I was desperate, alone, scarcely willing to undertake the risk of hoping someday to earn your affection. I wish I could speak to that poor scared man now, and reassure him of the joy that would someday be his because of you. You have given me so much, my Lizzie, I'll spend the rest of my life thanking you for your gifts of love and hope._

_I am an extremely wealthy man in the terms of this world, but I could think of no gift I could give you in return that could ever match what you have given me. Only this; I will give you the gift of marriage to an honest man. As of six o'clock this evening, all of my outstanding business contracts have been fulfilled and will not be renewed. All of my holdings in all of my various illicit businesses have now been dissolved or transferred to Dembe's ownership. He will now run the empire I had started in order to fund my lonely quest to destroy the Alliance; a battle that thankfully I now fight instead beside you and our honorable companions. As my share of our duties, I will still interact with those I have come to know and trust in the underworld, but I intend to never again personally profit from criminal activity. As for our personal wealth, we still have the Abbey, and my few legitimate investments, and of course you still control the accounts I started for you as a child under Sam's care. We remain quite solvent, but I must admit because of this divestment I will no longer hold rank on the world's list of billionaires. I find that this doesn't feel a loss to me, but rather a small start on my atonement for my long list of sins._

_I am well aware that I will never earn nor deserve forgiveness for my past actions in this world. All I can do is try very hard to be a good man in the future, for your sake and for my own._

_Until the morning, my love._

_Raymond_

 

Elenna knocked gently on the door half an hour later, and quietly helped the bride wash her face and redo her decimated makeup before it was time to leave for the church.

 

They made it to the church just in time for the last guest to be seated. Now was the time for surprises, Liz thought with a touch of a smile; the details of the ceremony were part of Raymond's zealously guarded secrets. First was her view of Don waiting alone in the vestibule and fidgeting with the ascot of his formal grey morning coat suit. His smile in return was part tender and part sheepish. Since the bride had no one to act as family, he explained, Red had asked him as her ex-partner to take on the role of the father of the bride and escort her down the aisle. She nodded silently in acquiesce, fearful that the tears would start up again any moment if she thought too hard about this. When the processional music started Elenna hugged them both quickly, admonished them both to hold it together, then took her position in front of them and started the walk towards the alter.

Red had been standing at the end of the aisle for a solid ten minutes, checking his watch repeatedly as the appointed time drew near. Dembe remained close by and silently keeping watch over the wedding guests. None of the other members of the wedding party had seen the invitation list but it was a fascinating group to watch. Legitimate dignitaries from a number of nations were intermingled with denizens of the underworld, many of whom were already holding handkerchiefs in anticipation of the coming ceremony. If the good citizens of the world disapproved of the new Bonnie and Clyde, as they were named in the press, the criminal element had found their story to be deeply romantic and inspiring. The idea that Raymond Reddington even possessed a heart had come as a surprise to many, and his losing it to a fed was charming to even the most unrepentant thug.

Mr Kaplan had been one of the last to be seated; she had hugged her old friend tightly whispered her assurances that he was going to be a very happy groom within a few moments. Red believed her, or wanted to. He glanced over to Father Tomas, who since the last round of confession was still having a hard time facing him directly without either a sigh or eyes widening in a sudden bewilderment. It was still hard for him to fathom that Lizzie could go through with this, tying herself to him via holy sacraments when she knew quite well what kind of monster he had been. Part of him was wondering where he could go and hide from his approaching crushing disappointment when the organ started up the traditional wedding march, and his heart leaped for joy that it wasn't going to shatter that day.

He had every intention of focusing on Lizzie every step she took toward him, but that wild card of an agent stole his attention away. Elenna marched down the center of the aisle in a long brilliantly scarlet dress holding a huge bouquet of red roses, and staring him down as if he would say anything to disrupt the moment. Her defiance faded to a warm conspiring grin as he mouthed 'thank you' with heartfelt gratitude, and he turned to his soon to be wife.

Now all the rest of creation disappeared as his bride approached with her eyes beaming brightly under the fountain of translucent veil. For the rest of his life, he would never be able to describe any particular aspect of the dress; all he saw was beautiful. All he heard of the ceremony was beauty; after hours of parsing out the words and debating over every line of the ritual, he didn't hear anything beyond her willing words of agreement to a lifetime commitment. Their first kiss as a married couple was messed up by both smiling and crying at the same time. He promised her their second married kiss would come later and go much better, and they turned to greet their guests and their roars of approval.

The reception was lovely and tasteful and as Elenna joked, the first time they were all together, formally dressed and not armed for undercover work. After the dinner there was dancing, singing, and likely some illegal operations going on as well but done carefully out of view of the bride and groom. His request to go legit had become common knowledge now and if not understood, at least respected by the better class of thug that was represented in this room.

As the evening wore on, Raymond and Liz chose a quiet moment to settle together in a remote corner of the room and watch their guests have a good time.

"Bad time to talk?" Elenna asked brightly as she plopped on a seat nearby. Don and Aram both were right behind her, Don wearing an uncharacteristically bright smile that caught Red's attention.

"You're always welcome, Agent Davidson," he answered with the same contented grin he had worn for the last three hours straight. "How can I help you?"

She shrugged. "You can call me Elenna. I have something to give you. Agent Smith asked me to deliver these to you today with his best wishes."

"What are these?" Liz asked with some suspicion lingering over their source. Elenna handed each a small manilla envelope, labeled 'bride' and 'groom' on their fronts.

"Open yours first, Liz," Don commanded. She did as she was told, to find a small leather case. Inside was a brand new FBI ID badge, with an old picture and the name Special Agent Elizabeth Reddington. She was speechless as she gripped the badge between her fingers. Instead of trying to find words she turned towards her new husband and urge him to open his gift.

"These are legit," Elenna assured them both as he worked open the clasp and slid out a thin plastic card. His badge was different because it had been issued instead by the Navy.

"Lieutenant Raymond Reddington, Office of Naval Intelligence," he read out loud in a voice that cracked and faded away on the last syllable. "How?" he whispered before one sob broke free from his control.

Don's smile widened. "You have both been pardoned by the President. But that can't become public knowledge yet, not until the Alliance has been destroyed. So you have to keep working with us under the guise of unredeemed criminals. Can you do that?"

"Can we save the world together?" Elenna added with a false frivolity over her real question.

Reddington took all of them under his gaze in turn, his new family he didn't deserve but somehow had claimed him as one of their own. Then he nodded firmly. "Yes, we can."


End file.
